


A Spell to Break Up

by SUHOcampaign (TheNatureKing), TheNatureKing



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: (i actually dunno bout the last one lol), Awkward Boners, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, ChanKai, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Family Drama, M/M, Magic, Romance, Roommates, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Supernatural Elements, Werewolves, Witches, kaiyeol - Freeform, only because i write slow it seems lmfaooo, werewolf chanyeol, witch jongin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2020-10-03 19:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 54,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20458283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNatureKing/pseuds/SUHOcampaign, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNatureKing/pseuds/TheNatureKing
Summary: "It doesn't look like you want to break up?""What do you mean?" Jongin looked down, and suddenly, he saw what everyone else had been seeing that evening. Chanyeol's arm held by his and tucked against his chest, their hands interlaced with his freehand secured over both.When did they end up like this?"I'm embarrassed for you."***After his roommate Chanyeol imprints on him, Jongin has to stop denying his supernatural lineage and search for a spell that can undo the wanton side effects it has on their bodies before the bond becomes permanent.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Currently in the drafting process. Please excuse any revisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: [8/31/19] Made quick revisions to grammar and spelling.  


Jongin could say it all began with red light, sandalwood incense and lavender oil.

Jongin poured a dab of the cool liquid into the bowl of his palm, shifting it slightly and sliding his hands together and coating the tanned backside until both hands looked as slick as they felt. The oil would be much warmer as he spread it across broad shoulders, enjoyable as his fingers pushed it deep into tense muscle—the stiffness not uncommon for men with poor posture or those who sat at desks for eight hours a day. Men with office jobs.

He went back for more oil, repeating the warming process before he applied it to blooming, flushed skin, over shoulder blades and over ridges of spine, over rib cages and over Venusian dimples. He rubbed until the entire back was primed and ready, skin glistening and golden. Only then did the body open up and speak to him.

Between the sounds of two beings breathing—one struggling to remain tethered to their earthly reality, the other enchanted by his art—he could hear it.

At first, so silent that the ash the burning incense dropped was heard, and then all at once as loud as the moan that erupted when he targeted that spot— “_yes, that spot, ugh, right there_” —between the shoulder blades with uncanny precision.

Miles underneath the flesh, deep into muscle his fingers dug and dragged and rocked, all contradictory sensations to the knotted bundle of nerves built up there. More moans as he cut, separated, and soothed them out. Shameless calls not meant for his ears—nor ever intended—rang out, wisping itself in with the ghostly sandalwood as to not stand out.

The body was on fire, not the room which only promised outwardly discrepancy for inwardly transparency. Certainly not his hands, which only coaxed the body into admitting what it had already been denying itself of. It was the body whose nerves lit up like fireworks and colored the sky bold, demanding to be seen. _His_ touch had only served as the phantom igniter.

In the light of the red fog, he had seen it all and yet; nothing could be exposed, for only the body which blushed blue would stand out in plum humiliation.

Reassurance dripped in the oil he poured and warmed again, and once more, the body shined. Resistance flared and subsided. He pressed deeper elsewhere, continuing on but occasionally echoing back.

Their night was just beginning.

## ***

Somehow, Jongin had always known with every fiber of his being that he wasn’t like the members of his family and would never grow up to be. As the excuses changed from “he’s too young to exhibit anything,” to “he’s a male, the process is different,” to “when he comes of age, then we’ll know,” to “this is truly unprecedented, he may never—oh, Jongin! How long were you listening…,” that all became more apparent. He was different, but not just different—he was worse than that. He was normal. Average. Plain. Human.

All synonyms for _boring_ in his book.

For the first few years of his life, while he was still the youngest, he was content with that. Or at least, it didn’t bother him as much. While sorely unlike his older sisters, he was still sorely loved. It wasn’t often that males were born into his family.

But then, at the halfway mark between the lucky lives of a cat and the double digits of the world, his brother came along and changed that. Suddenly, the fortune of a male son was overshadowed by the fortune of _two_, and the comparisons, in spite of their nearly ten-year-difference, had never ceased to end since they began.

His brother was a miracle child, a becomer of greatness, a bringer of change. He was much more like their sisters, much more loved by their parents, and much more a member of their family than Jongin had ever been—_or had ever felt_.

Jongin was the winning scratch-off used to buy the winning jackpot. He was a conduit for nothing but his brother and his achievements to shine through. With not much to compete against, it was only natural that his brother’s gold medals of promise and trophies of excellence would take over the shelf in which Jongin housed his simple things.

After nearly ten years of making space for gleaming perfection, of—at first shoving, and then once he’d run out of space—stacking his undesired nickels and dimes into—at first, the corner of the room, and then once he’d run out of space again—shoeboxes packed high in the closest and underneath the bed, he had had enough.

It was only natural that he would leave. After all, he had spent most of his life packing. Although there wasn’t much to take with him, there wasn’t much to leave behind, either. He left the first chance he could and never looked back. Never turned back. Never ever wanted to so much as _slightly angle_ himself back towards which he had come.

And then.

Chanyeol happened.

Park Chanyeol happened and _ruined everything_.

The foundation Jongin had built for himself, his new home away from the place he had never felt connected to, crumbled before his eyes. And in the choking dust of the aftermath, the only refuge in sight was the one he had forsaken.

But they weren’t quite there yet.

## ***

It all _really_ began the weekend before Thanksgiving when Sehun announced to Jongin that he wouldn’t be spending the holiday at home because he was, indeed, going camping. _Without him._

“Why can’t you take me with you,” Jongin whined, folding over the armrest of the couch and clinging onto Sehun’s arm. He had just come back from work, and while he smelled of expensive perfumes and random people, he had bothered Sehun so many times in the two and a half years that they’d known each other to know that he was used to it by now.

“Don’t mess me up, Jongin,” Sehun laughed as he pulled away—attempted to, anyhow. He continued to mash buttons on the controller he held. He was playing a video game _with Chanyeol_, whose big body took up most of the space over on the loveseat.

Although Jongin would never willingly sit with him there—there was plenty of space for him and Sehun on the long couch—he couldn’t help the ping of irritation he got at the thought of Chanyeol hogging an entire piece of furniture to himself when they _all _had paid for it. Chanyeol had only spared him a glance when he came in, so Jongin hadn’t bothered saying anything in return. He didn’t care about their game either; his focus was on Sehun who was just as focused on him as Chanyeol was.

Jongin nuzzled his cheek against his friend’s bony arm and Sehun laughed again, conceding. “I wish I could, but nobody’s bringing plus ones. Not even Johnny and you know how attached to his girlfriend he is.”

Jongin gagged just thinking about the infamous couple. He’d never actually met them in person—thank God—but he’d heard enough horror stories to feel bad for anyone who had. No one deserved to bear witness to their public displays of affection. It should have been outlawed.

“We all decided it’d be a faculty thing,” Sehun added. “Otherwise you would have been my first choice.”

“Well that was a dumb thing to decide,” Jongin mumbled stubbornly. He understood why he couldn’t tagalong—it wasn’t like he was irrational—but still.

“Sorry, buddy,” Sehun took one of his hands off the controller to run it through Jongin’s hair. Jongin reflexively nestled into the touch, body relaxing. To any outsider, it probably looked way too intimate, even for best friends’ standards. They had lost track of all the times they had gotten mistaken as a couple. Whether it was due to Jongin’s shamelessness in being clingy or Sehun’s willingness to openly indulge him, no one could say; but one thing was for sure: it worked for them. Who cared what other people thought when they both saw nothing wrong?

A throat cleared, and Jongin rolled his eyes before dragging them toward the loveseat Chanyeol always hogged. He was staring. Not at them like they weird—after all, having all lived nearly six months together, he had been exposed to their affection behavior the most. Surely, by the three month mark, he had given up wondering how Jongin always somehow ended with his head in Sehun’s lap, regardless of if he was half-leaning over the arm of the couch, on the floor seated in front of him, or lounging next to him like a normal person. It was a truth universally acknowledged that Jongin’s center of gravity was Sehun’s lap—don’t think into that too much. Chanyeol just looked like they were the most uninterested thing in the world. That’s how Chanyeol always looked at _him. _Jongin gave him a vacant stare back.

“We’re dying,” Chanyeol said, without much inflection to his deep voice. Sehun apologized with a laugh, and the warmth combing through Jongin’s hair disappeared as _his _best friend refocused on the game.

Jongin suppressed a sigh. Chanyeol was always interrupting his comfort time.

Chanyeol’s gaze flickered to his for a moment and then — it was gone.

There was nothing there.

Like usual.

Jongin watched the screen in boredom. He didn’t even know what they were playing.

## ***

This was the full dynamic of their relationship:

Jongin and Sehun were best friends.

Sehun and Chanyeol were in the same friend group at school.

Jongin and Chanyeol were…roommates. _Sehun’s roommates._

Jongin met Sehun during his sophomore year. Sehun was the unlucky freshman who had somehow gotten assigned to be his roommate. It was a whole lot of awkward chuckles and forced small talk for about a week or so before they realized they had been attached at the hip the entire time. Jongin thought that would always be the case, and then he decided he couldn’t do another year of university. Had it not been for Sehun’s constant effort to stay in contact, Jongin wasn’t sure where he would be in life right now. It was Sehun who had encouraged him to go to a technical college. It was Sehun who had given up his room and board scholarship to room with Jongin in a shabby first apartment so that he wouldn’t have to be alone—_or move back home_. Their first year together had been shaky. With Sehun tackling his sophomore year and Jongin attempting a school for massage therapy he wasn’t even sure he was all that interested in, the added pressure of working to sustain themselves took a heavy strain on both of them. It was the reason why they had both not only agreed to move again, but to also find a third roommate who could help shoulder the costs so that they could get a better place.

Sehun said he would take care of it, and so he had.

“Meet Jongin,” Sehun said one sunny afternoon, catching Jongin off guard while he was tying his shoe. Inviting Chanyeol to go jogging with them in the park had been Sehun’s plan, to avoid any potential awkwardness he had said; but as Jongin was forced to squint past the bulge in Chanyeol’s shorts to make out his sun-eclipsed face, he didn’t think Sehun had particularly been successful in that regard.

“Hey. I’m Chanyeol.” He introduced himself looking down on Jongin, who, ignoring his poorly tied laces, hastily stood up and offered his hand. Chanyeol’s grip was firm, and Jongin distinctly remembered the power his arm held before he let go. He could keep up with them, Jongin thought.

“Okay, let’s hit the trails, boys,” Sehun said. He had been running in place the entire time, never one to keep himself unoccupied. When he took off running, Jongin thought that was Sehun’s way of telling him to make friends with the new guy. Jongin wasn’t a big socializer, but small talk came naturally to him. So, he fell into an easy rhythm running next to Chanyeol—they were a couple dozen or so strides behind Sehun—and brainstormed some icebreaker topics.

His priorities were getting a clear grasp of who Chanyeol was while also giving Chanyeol a positive impression of himself. That was by far the most important in his mind. If Sehun went out of his way to convince him to be their roommate, then he didn’t want to upset him by not trying hard enough.

“So…” Chanyeol shot him a look, interrupting Jongin’s train of thought and whatever Jongin had been thinking of saying. His intended comment or question had died on the tip of his tongue. Chanyeol had killed it. His future roommate turned away before Jongin could catch his bearings and ran ahead before Jongin could figure out what had just happened. Chanyeol joined Sehun on his left. Jongin followed up on his right.

That first encounter of theirs was nothing but thick tongues and stiff silences, and they only reacted to each other when Sehun acted as their middleman. Maybe that was why Sehun had thought their shared day together had went well, albeit a bit slow but not everyone became friends over a hefty workout and coke and pizza afterwards.

“You’ll be friends in no time,” Sehun reassured on the car ride home. “Chanyeol’s a great guy. You can’t _not_ like him.”

Jongin smiled and said nothing. Despite the strange wall between him and Chanyeol, he had been hoping the same.

And he kept hoping. And hoping. And hoping. And hoping. And eventually…he stopped pretending.

Sehun was wrong about two things: they weren’t friends, and he was _not_ liked.

They just didn’t _click_.

And although he would never voice it aloud, he had a feeling they would _never_ click.

They just weren’t compatible.

## ***

Out of all the styles of massage Jongin had studied and practiced, his favorite kind had always been Sehun’s. To an unpracticed eye, the technique he used was sloppy, unskilled fingers overlapping strokes without design, leaving the canvas more blank than covered. To Jongin, it was the negative space that made the art of his massage pop, what wasn’t explicitly said but implied whenever Sehun combed through his hair in a lazy rhythm. It was a silent song Jongin could listen to forever.

“Jongin, wake up.”

The soothing went away and Jongin groaned. _No, come back. _He shifted, belatedly registering that his face was not planted in his pillow. These two humps were not pillows. He opened his eyes, and slowly, the dark shapes of the room came into form.

He was on the couch in the living room — “Jongin, get up, buddy,” encouraged Sehun, drumming his fingers on Jongin’s cheek — with his head in Sehun’s lap, apparently. So, nothing new then.

Jongin went to move and a wave of needling pain pricked up his legs. He had really left them hanging over the armrest. Hours of elevation and pinched circulation had filled them with lead. He twisted his body until they dropped in front of him like heavy weights. He slouched against the back of the couch, staring at them, willing his blood and nerves to return.

“Finally,” Sehun yawned beside him, stretching his body long and tall, all cat-like. “You fell asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you.” Jongin eyed his thighs and wondered if they were numb, too, with the impression his cheek indented.

“Why’re we—what time is it? How long have I been asleep?”

Sehun pursed his lips and then shrugged. He glanced to the window where the lack of daylight was apparent. Moonlight streamed in through loosely spread curtains, casting a soft light over his smooth features. “A few hours.” He stood up and stretched his long body again.

“And you just… sat here?”

Sehun snorted, arms folding in and dropping. “I fell asleep, too. I think while playing the game, actually.” He chuckled a little. “Chanyeol’s probably so annoyed. We said we were gonna try to finish it before I left.”

Jongin’s eyes flickered to the empty loveseat before he rolled them, aware that the lack of lighting would conceal him. “I’m sure he’s fine. It’s just a game, anyway.”

Sehun hummed. “Yeah, maybe. He’s pretty understanding.”

Sehun clumsily brushed past Jongin, rounding the corner and stumbling in the dark down the hall to the bathroom.

In the strip of the house briefly illuminated by the bathroom light, Sehun’s bags for his camping trip caught Jongin’s eye. The events of that afternoon returned to him. Jongin frowned. That icky feeling that had settled in his stomach once he had seen the bags lined and ready by the door returned once again. He really wished the trip had never gotten organized in the first place.

“Jongin, you alright?” Sehun had returned, blocking the view of his bags with his body, and Jongin looked away to his toes. He wiggled them, envisioning the numbness bleeding away. “Jongin,” pressed Sehun’s voice, louder, though only because he had perched himself over the armrest.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” It took him a while to meet Sehun’s gaze, but once he did, he held it. He held it for as long as he could until his eyes started to water. He rubbed them; they were terribly dry. “Yeah, you leave when—like Wednesday?”

“Sunday.”

Jongin’s face fell.

“_Tomorrow_?”

Sehun’s lips thinned. “Tomorrow night.”

“And you return… _next_ Sunday?”

Sehun nodded. “Our professor rented the cabin for the entire week,” he explained. “We decided it would be a waste of money if we didn’t get the most out of it. And since, you know, university gets a weeklong break, we thought why not make the most of it.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Should be fun, yeah?” Jongin said rationally, and Sehun laughed at what they both knew was the most uncharacteristic response yet.

“Jongin,” he mused. _You big baby, _Jongin imagined him thinking. He dropped a hand on Jongin’s head and ruffled his hair. Jongin made a weak effort to push it away. “This week will fly by for you. You still have class up until Tuesday and you’ll still be working. You’ll be fine. I bet you’ll hardly notice I’m gone.”

_Yes, I will_.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Jongin lied instead. It really wasn’t all that healthy for him to be as needy as he was. He didn’t want Sehun worrying about him during his trip, so he took a deep breath and stood up, albeit shakily because of his recovering legs. In doing so, the bathroom suddenly started calling his name, and he moved towards it. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, too. I’m just going to be super bored all by myself.”

When he returned, Sehun was in the kitchen filling two glasses with water. He handed one to Jongin, smiling.

“No, you won’t be by yourself. Chanyeol will be here, too.”

Jongin choked and Sehun patted his back through the coughing fit.

“Not the entire time, though, you mean, right? Like he’s going back home in a few days, and leaving, too?”

Sehun shook his head while he sipped his water. “Nope, he’s not going anywhere this Thanksgiving Break.”

Jongin set his glass down, no longer thirsty. “Why?” He said before he could catch himself. “I mean, doesn’t he have a family to visit or something over break?”

“Yeah, he usually does. This year he said he’s not.”

A look of _something_ flashed across Sehun’s face. Was it sympathy? Jongin wanted to ask more but knew it would be too weird. Even if they were roommates, even if Sehun wanted them to be friends when he wasn’t around, the simple truth of the matter was that they weren’t. He would be crossing a line if he inquired anything more from Sehun, especially if it was something seemingly personal. Jongin had enough sense to know that much. Besides, it wasn’t like Jongin actually cared _why_ he wasn’t leaving. What he really had been focused on was how that meant he would be stuck in the house with no one but Chanyeol, to keep him company, _of all people_. Though, he couldn’t very well tell Sehun that.

But maybe Sehun had been thinking that, too, because the next thing he had said was:

“I think this will be great for you guys.” Jongin always felt guilty whenever Sehun brought _this_ topic up. He could imagine how exhausting it must feel to constantly be the glue of a group, so Jongin tried to appear as hopeful as Sehun’s voice radiated. “You’ll both be spending Thanksgiving together, essentially, so maybe you guys can go out and do something?”

Jongin quirked a brow. _Let’s not be too ambitious now._ Sehun laughed, no doubt interpreting his expression and gathering just as much. “Okay, okay, nothing _too_ extravagant. But—just spend some time together, alright? _Make an effort._ You’d be surprised by how similar you guys are.” Before Jongin could ask what he had meant by that, Sehun grabbed his shoulder and squeezed.

“Promise me, Jongin, you’ll make an effort? You won’t hide yourself in your room, and tiptoe around him in the kitchen? Promise me?”

There was nothing particularly special about Sehun’s eyes. At least, Jongin had never thought there was. They were a common dark brown color, an average shape, very ordinary and yet; often times they had taken Jongin’s breath away. There was a quiet strength to them, an intense sincerity _in_ them that made it hard to look away from and difficult to ignore a request backed by them. Jongin felt at ease when he looked at Sehun, and because he trusted Sehun so much, he often complied to anything he asked.

So, unaware of what was to come, Jongin foolishly said, “I will make an effort. I promise.” Whether he believed it himself or not didn’t matter. What he had just done—what he had just committed to—had sealed his fate.

Nothing would ever be the same again.

And it was _all_ Park Chanyeol’s fault.

## ***


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: [8/31/19] Made quick revisions to grammar and spelling. Added context to a spoken reference.  
Update: [9/2/19] Rewrote characterization of co-workers. Does not affect plot.  
Update: [9/19/19] SCREAMING! Nobody told me I left edit notes inside!! I'm so embarrassed! ELECTRIC CHAIR!! But also, rewrote characterization of Chanyeol! Major change but mostly subtle in this Chap lol. Tweaked some dialogue. Added a naughty tidbit at the end. Don't worry, though, the essence remains the same.  
Update: [10/6/19] Saw a typo :( Fixed it. Will probably read through and find more adknasldn  
Update: [12/13/19] Minor fix. (nobody ever tells me when i use the wrong word lmfaoooo)

Jongin told himself that this wasn’t the end of the world. That Sehun was leaving for a week, not dying or being sent off to war. He told himself he wasn’t going to cry.

“All packed!” Sehun closed the trunk and dusted off his hands.

“All packed,” Jongin repeated, far less enthusiastic. He followed Sehun around the car and crossed his arms as he watched him get in. Sehun started the car and a flush of hot air slammed his face. “Enjoy your trip,” he grumbled.

“I will. Enjoy your _bro-cation.” _Sehun laughed, and Jongin mimicked the sound.

“Just leave already.”

Sehun clutched his chest where his heart supposedly was and gasped. “I’m hurt.”

“Gonna have a new best friend by the time you return.”

Leaning out and wiggling his eyebrows, Sehun said, “Well speak of the devil; here comes your cute, new BFF right now.”

Jongin refused to look. Correction: he refused to be caught looking. He watched Chanyeol descend their apartment steps in the reflection of the car window. He looked like he’d just thrown on anything in a rush to make it out on time— a plain tee, plain cotton shorts, one sandal and one sneaker—he was hardly cute in Jongin’s mind.

Sehun cooed. “You came to see me off! How sweet of you, pal!”

“Right,” Chanyeol said dryly, holding up an inconspicuous brown bag. “Here.”

“What’s this,” Sehun started to say, peeking inside, but then his lips puckered inward, and his eyes curled. “You sly dog, _you_!”

“Thought you might get lonely,” Chanyeol teased. Anything but a monotal delivery was strange to Jongin’s ears. It wasn’t to Sehun’s, though. He stuck his arm out of the window just to squeeze Chanyeol’s.

“You’re always looking out for me. You enjoy your break, man.” Sehun’s lips twisted into a wiry smile, and he nodded at Jongin. “Take care of him; don’t let him starve, alright?”

If Chanyeol had a lick of positive emotion within him before, all traces of it were gone now. His face fell impassive, and he lifted his eyebrows. “Bye,” he said. The sudden shift in moods and finality of it made Sehun laugh.

“Alright, I’m gone,” Sehun announced, shaking his head. He was probably wondering how they were going to survive without him. Even Jongin didn’t know.

With the two of them standing next to each other as Sehun pulled off, the gravity of the situation truly began to sink in. It was _just_ the two of them. The two of them for a _week_. Seven whole days. Sunday to Sunday. How would this work?

_Make an effort_, echoed Sehun’s voice in his mind. Right, this entire week without him started now, didn’t it?

Jongin shifted on his feet and glanced out of the corner of his eye. Even though he stood as still as a statute, Chanyeol’s presence grew by the second. It was hard to ignore. He was hard to ignore.

Their silence was even harder to ignore.

Gosh, this was already awkward.

Jongin swallowed and opened his mouth to break the silence.

Then Chanyeol moved. He looked at Jongin with that same indifferent expression he seemingly only reserved for him. For a second, Jongin thought, _this is it. Now, just saying something. Anything_. But throat constricted and no sound escaped.

As if Chanyeol would’ve heard him anyway. He had started back towards the complex without so much of a second of acknowledgement.

Jongin watched him climb the stairs, trying to convince himself that Chanyeol _wasn’t_ some hollow, lifeless robot whose programming only allowed him to socialize with everyone _but Jongin_. As Chanyeol retreated inside, Jongin tried to convince himself that there was _something_ within the giant he could learn to _at least like_. Right?

Jongin sighed. Who was he kidding? There was no need to keep lying to himself for Sehun’s sake. He was gone, would be for a week. Absolutely nothing would change that drastically between him and Chanyeol in that timespan. The best thing he could hope for was that he would get Chanyeol to stop looking at him like he wasn’t worth his time of day.

If Jongin could achieve that much in a week, he would be satisfied. Surely, Sehun would, too.

Great.

A new, _more reasonable _goal established.

Slapping on his best poker face, Jongin went inside to play nice.

## ***

Sehun gave the wrong person a pep talk, Jongin thought bitterly as he packed up his things in the now darkened living room. He had gotten comfortable, having made himself a nest out of blankets while he snacked and worked on his homework for his classes that was due the next day. Unfortunately, Jongin was one of the few students whose college didn’t give them the full week off for Thanksgiving Break so when Monday morning came, that’s where Jongin would be. Admittedly, before Sehun left, Jongin had been looking forward to his two days of classes, secretly counting on them to get him through the week. Anything to get out of the house he was stuck in with Chanyeol. Until then, he had to suck it up for one more day and _make an effort _which he did by coming to the living room with his stuff in the first place.

It was Chanyeol who wasn’t _making an effort_. Sehun should have given _him_ a pep talk. He spent the remainder of the day holed up in his bedroom, and since he had a private bathroom and a mini fridge, he could actually get away with it. Jongin almost wanted to call Sehun and tattle on him. It wasn’t fair. But no, Jongin wouldn’t bother Sehun over a petty thing like this. Besides, Sehun wouldn’t take him seriously anyway. He would just call him out on his petulance saying Jongin had only wanted to hear his voice, which wouldn’t have been _too _far from the truth, but Jongin wanted to hold onto at least one shred of his dignity. It hadn’t even been 12 hours yet.

Too exhausted to care about making any type of _effort_, Jongin retired for the night.

No, he did not sleep in Sehun’s bed.

After classes, by the time Jongin was heading home, there was still plenty of light outside. The skies were still in the process of blending from blues to pinks and oranges, so he had been expecting to see Chanyeol that day.

It was common unspoken knowledge that Monday nights were reserved as the household’s impromptu movie nights. Jongin saw no reason why the weekly tradition wouldn’t be continued—with or without Sehun’s mediation to decide on the movie. He and Chanyeol had such different tastes. Jongin had almost been looking forward to seeing how they were going to decide. Perhaps it was the potential to evoke any type of emotion from Chanyeol other than what he was commonly used to receiving: nothing. All in all, even if they couldn’t share a popcorn bowl like they would’ve if Sehun had been there, Jongin was excited to _make an effort_.

His excitement fizzled out quickly.

Chanyeol sat on his loveseat—_the _loveseat—with his computer on his lap, typing away furiously and subsequently, not sparing Jongin any glance when he came in.

“Hey,” Jongin said.

Maybe Chanyeol nodded. Maybe he was just squinting at his screen. It was hard to tell with his head craned over.

Jongin toed of his shoes and socks by the door, thinking of how he was going to bring up their movie night. He moved over to the kitchen for water. He wasn’t thirsty, but he felt like he needed a reason to linger. That was believable, right?

Explosions and sci-fi laser-y-sounding effects resonated in the air along with high-pitched shouts and barbaric grunts. “What are you playing?” Jongin asked genuinely, or maybe his job had made him a pro of feigning interest. Either way, he knew it didn’t sound shallow or teasing. He’d known huge nerds in school who got defensive over video games. Jongin wasn’t sure which type of gamer Chanyeol was.

Chanyeol ignored him.

Or maybe he hadn’t heard him. The PC _was_ pretty loud for Jongin to hear it over the running faucet. He turned it off, grabbed his glass and walked over to the end of the couch he was used to perching on. It felt weird without Sehun occupying the middle so just stood not-so-awkwardly by it.

Jongin was mid-sip when Chanyeol looked up at him, expression mostly blank but open. Jongin hurried to swallow and repeated his question from earlier. Chanyeol returned to his game without an answer. Jongin waited. Maybe he was thinking of the name? He often forgot the names of things himself. It was understandable.

After a minute of standing, though—and after a minute of watching Chanyeol mash his keyboard—Jongin grew tired.

“Hello? I asked you a question, like twice, now.” Sehun would disapprove of his use of sarcasm, but Sehun wasn’t here right now. Out of all their interactions, Jongin had tried his best not to be sarcastic with Chanyeol. It wasn’t like he disliked him. Not vibing well didn’t justify Sassy Jongin. Rudeness, did, however, and ignoring him when he had clearly asked a question was as rude as it got. Jongin hated being ignored.

“I only heard it once,” Chanyeol said, indifferent to Jongin’s tone.

“_Once_ should have been enough. Are you dense?” Okay, insults were crossing the line. He would’ve apologized if Sehun was there, but he wasn’t. He hated how he was justifying his petulance with that excuse. With Sehun not around to indulge him, he guessed he sort of spiraled out of control. He could see where Sehun’s hesitance came from. Yikes, he had to work on some things… Eventually.

Chanyeol didn’t seem fazed by the insult, though. He never seemed fazed by anything Jongin said or did. It was annoying on a normal day, infuriating at a time like this.

He said nothing.

So, Jongin just stood there, glaring at Chanyeol’s boring ass face, waiting for a reply that wouldn’t come. If there was nothing for him to respond to, then it was just _awkward._ He felt like an idiot.

“Are you not going to answer the question, then?” Jongin asked in spite of himself, knowing another lack response would probably bother him even more than the last. He should have just turned and went to him room—but no. That felt like losing, somehow. Whatever battle this was. Maybe it wasn’t a battle. Maybe it wasn’t anything. Maybe Jongin was inventing conflict in his head just to have an excuse _not_ to _make an effort._

No, that wasn’t it. He was just stubborn and hated not getting his way. That was it. He wouldn’t leave until he got Chanyeol to answer his question. He wouldn’t leave until Chanyeol _acknowledged _his presence. Sehun had always said he was a nightmare when he wanted something. He would play up to that.

“What are you playing?” he repeated three times in the same breath. He took a sip of his water and did it again.

Chanyeol narrowed his eyes slightly and leaned forward as if he was capable of blocking Jongin out of his mind. Jongin thought it was brave of him to assume so and moved closer.

“What. Are. You. Playing.” This time, Jongin dragged the words out hellishly slow, exaggerating his pronunciation at the same time. That seemed to do the trick. Chanyeol slammed his laptop closed and shot up. If he was thinking he could intimidate Jongin with his height, then he was wrong. Chanyeol only had about an inch or two or Jongin—it was drastic. In fact, whenever all three roommates were gathered in public, they attracted looks of awe and envy for their similar heights. Chanyeol would be better of using his size, but between the loveseat and the coffee table, _he _was the one caged in.

“Why are you being so annoying?” Chanyeol growled. Jongin got the distinct impression that this is what he did instead of yelling. As big as Chanyeol was, he didn’t seem capable of raising his voice above his normal level. Or maybe… Jongin hadn’t seen him mad enough for him to do so.

Despite the sudden movement and intense gaze Chanyeol was leveling him with, Jongin didn’t flinch. He pressed his glass to his lips and sipped loudly. He closed his eyes and hummed. _How refreshing_. He could be in a commercial for water bottles, Jongin thought. When he opened his eyes, delightfully slow, the irritation from Chanyeol had dulled. Or rather, he had regained control over himself.

Interesting.

“Why aren’t you answering my question?” Jongin asked simply, voice light, almost playful, as if _he_ was innocent.

“Why do you even care? You don’t like games.”

Jongin shrugged. “I’m curious,” he said non-committedly.

“Go be curious somewhere else.” Chanyeol stepped out to go around, but Jongin blocked his path. There wasn’t much maneuverability for him in the enclosed space. He was Jongin’s prey.

“Just tell me the name, and I’ll go away.” Jongin pursed his lips and fluttered his eyelashes, taking advantage of Chanyeol’s slight height advantage. He had always had long pretty eyelashes his entire life—or so he had been told—but the taller he grew, the less he was able to use it on people taller than him. He liked using them on people. It seemed Chanyeol was good for something, after all.

Chanyeol stared at him. After a moment, he said: “Move.”

Jongin bent over like a stalk to set his glass on the table, then snapped back up with a bright smile. “I moved.”

Chanyeol was unimpressed. His nostrils flared as he exhaled slowly. Jongin winced inwardly as hot nose air ghosted his face. They were standing pretty close Jongin realized. Close enough to feel each other’s breaths, as gross as that was. Close enough to smell each other. Chanyeol smelled like pinecones and evergreens. _Nature_. Weird thought, Jongin told himself.

“Why’re you so—” Chanyeol cut himself off with a sigh. Suddenly, Jongin was in the air with big hands dwarfing his waist and strong arms lifting him off the ground. _Of course, he yelped. _He was caught off guard. He only remembered to struggle when Chanyeol had already set him down to the side, so he ended up flailing around like a headless turkey. _So, not cool._

“Hey! Keep your grimy paws to yourself!” Jongin shouted at Chanyeol’s retreating back. He had the decency not to slam his bedroom door behind him. Jongin could do nothing but make his own strategic retreat.

Before he left for his own room, he slipped his petty cap back on and knocked on Chanyeol’s door and yelled: “Are we still doing movie night?”

When he received a groaned, “_Go away_,” he found himself smiling. Yes, this _was_ a victory. It hadn’t been the type of reaction Jongin had been striving for when he returned home that day, but he _had_ achieved his goal of evoking an _emotion_ from Chanyeol.

A win’s a win in his book.

**1 – Jongin | 0 – Chanyeol **

## ***

Jongin overslept.

It wasn’t his alarm that woke him up, nor was it the sun streaming through the opened drapes in Sehun’s room. It was a deep voice swearing and the refrigerator slamming shut. Instantly, Jongin’s morning was spoiled. Chanyeol really had no sense of consideration to be causing a ruckus so early in the morning. Jongin rolled out of Sehun’s bed ready to fight. He swung open Sehun’s door and glared at the culprit responsible for disrupting his precious sleep.

And he couldn’t believe what he saw.

It was just for a moment, but he had seen it. Seen _him._

The image had burned itself in his brain. His hunched shoulders and bawled fists. A jaw clenched so tightly it might shatter. A face twisted in what could’ve been mistaken as pain. But no, he was in no pain. He wasn’t hurt. Chanyeol was _distraught_.

But over what? What had made him this way? What was _capable_ of making him this way?

Chanyeol’s dark gaze snapped to him and seized control over Jongin’s body. His joints locked up, and his throat closed. From head to toe, a sickly heat enveloped him. Jongin felt his stomach flexing as his lungs struggled to work against the invisible restriction on his chest. From outside of his body, Jongin saw himself paralyzed. His ability to both move _and_ _breathe _were gone.

He could look nowhere but at Chanyeol, yet all he saw was nothing. A tear gathered in the corner of his eye, burning. He blinked and everything came rushing back—the air, his vision, his body. He staggered forward, barely managing to hold himself up in the door frame.

Jongin stared at the muted carpet, breathing hard. What... had just happened.

He felt rather than heard Chanyeol approach him. He stared at his shoes. Brown. Pointed. Leather.

_Stay away._

“Hey.”

Jongin’s body flinched.

_No, get back!_

Jongin felt in every atom of his being to move, to _escape_, to retreat back into the safety of Sehun’s room and hide underneath his blankets. But he couldn’t bring himself to move. And he couldn’t bring himself to look up.

A large hand rested against the valley of his shoulder blades and Jongin froze.

“Are you okay?” There was something about the tone of his voice that Jongin’s body responded to, something that his mind deemed _safe_. He relaxed under the touch, and whatever he had been afflicted with melted away. Suddenly, Chanyeol’s hand seemed warm.

Jongin risked a glance and knew what the change had been. Chanyeol’s brows were knitted together, his mouth slightly parted as if there were a dozen words waiting to spill out. He was _concerned_. About _him_, no less. A miracle if Jongin had ever seen any.

“I’m fine.” Jongin cleared his throat. He straightened and pulled away from Chanyeol, eyeing him warily. “Are _you_ okay?”

Chanyeol seemed to think about it. The question on a surface level and the connotations beneath it. Had he experienced what Jongin had felt, too? Jongin wanted to know.

_There was a seed planted deep within Jongin that he had long ignored for years. That single tear had watered it._

“I’m fine.” Chanyeol added on shortly after. “I have an interview. I need the job.”

Jongin studied his face. He couldn’t read Chanyeol as easily as he could Sehun. In fact, he could hardly read Chanyeol at all. The majority of his expressions seemed to stem from one single emotion—apathy. Unless there was a deviation like what he had shown yesterday (_annoyance_) and minutes earlier (_anger?)_ minutes earlier, knowing what he was thinking was just about anybody’s guess.

He assumed Chanyeol’s added bit of information was to sate his disbelief. Seeing as Chanyeol had a difficult time sharing the simplest of details with him, Sehun would probably count that as _making an_ _effort_. Jongin wasn’t so sure he agreed, but he wasn’t blind. He knew an olive branch when he saw one.

Besides that, Chanyeol had proved he was capable of showing more than one emotion towards Jongin after all.

_Care_.

And this time, it wasn’t negative. That was a bonus in his mind. +2.

**3 – Jongin | 0 – Chanyeol **

“Must be a really important interview,” Jongin said casually, leaning against the doorframe in his jammies. “I can give you some tips if you’d like.”

Chanyeol’s tone was perfectly neutral as he replied, “I’ll think about it.” He turned away and Jongin couldn’t hide his smile as he walked away. He had expected a monotonal, “_No._” His efforts had been working. Sehun would be so proud of him.

Unfortunately, his happiness was short lived.

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” Chanyeol wasn’t shouting from the living room when he said it, but his voice slammed into Jongin like he was.

Jongin’s pulse surged. “What time is it?”

Chanyeol took his sweet time holding up his wrist and getting the time. “9:36.”

“Oh, shit!” Jongin’s pulse surged and he leapt for his room. His campus was a thirty-minute walk from their apartment, but that was without the big massage table _Remedial Exercises II_ required him to bring. Lugging that across the city would take nearly twice as long and kill his muscle strength along the way. Who wanted a massage from a pair of noodle arms?

Jongin threw on the nearest pair of jeans and the first shirt that didn’t smell before diving for the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and washed his face, then threw some water in hair before half-heartedly combing it back.

He kept his massage table in the living room closet and tried not to feel embarrassed as Chanyeol sat at the kitchen table, watching him strongarm it out. The only upside to the whole ordeal is that once it was on solid ground, he could just roll it along. Luckily, he had had the foresight to have wheels installed. Work smarter, not harder.

“Can you lock up?” Jongin panted. Chanyeol gave a Chanyeol response but stood up, nevertheless. Jongin let the door close in his face.

Jongin took a deep breath for his final daunting task—his apartment building’s stairs. Oh, how he hated these things. He swore he was going to sue his management for their lack of wheelchair accessibility.

Looking at the empty parking spot where Sehun’s car usually belonged, Jongin found himself thinking about his usual routine. He’d wake up early with Sehun because if he was ready by the time Sehun had to leave for his own classes, he could catch a ride.

Jongin missed Sehun. He hoped he was enjoying himself. Maybe he should call—

“Skipping?”

“Considering it,” Jongin said flatly as he faced Chanyeol. He hadn’t really been considering skipping, but he surely was now. There was no way he was going to give Chanyeol the satisfaction of watching him struggle. Jongin wasn’t a weak guy. He _had _muscle. He hit the gym with Sehun whenever he could. _He just wasn’t Chanyeol._ Neither him nor Sehun could match Chanyeol’s string. He could beat both of them in an arm-wrestling contest at the same time if he wanted to. Hell, if he could beat them even if he _didn’t_ want to. He was that freaking strong. It was part of the reason why Chanyeol’s reaction earlier had been so startling. Jongin thought his back was going to burst out of his dress shirt, that’s how compacted he was. But beyond Chanyeol’s freak strength, the massage table was just ridiculously heavy as shit. There was no reason for them to be so damn dense. Jongin wasn’t going to struggle down the stairs with an audience, and especially not with Chanyeol sitting it. It was nearly ten already; maybe he should call it quits.

As he contemplated what to email his instructor, Chanyeol’s large hands swatted his away and wrapped around the handle. He lifted and glided down the stairs with ease. Jongin didn’t detect any strain in his flexed muscles.

Ignoring the strangeness of Chanyeol carrying his massage table—and dare he say it, _helping him_—Jongin followed him down.

“Thanks,” Jongin said after the last step, “but I’m going the opposite way.”

To Jongin’s surprise, Chanyeol ignored him. Well, there wasn’t anything surprising about that. It’s where Chanyeol kept walking towards that had Jongin doubting his eyes. Chanyeol popped open his trunk of his SUV and slid the massage table in. He closed it and walked to the front to get in.

Frowning, Jongin crept up to the driver’s window. Chanyeol started the car, the heat from it sweeping Jongin’s face. Through the glass, Chanyeol stared at him, and Jongin imagined him saying, _Do I have to spell it out for you? _Jongin kind of wished he would. This was new territory—for both of them—he would most definitely like it spelled out.

Jongin got in, and felt like holding his breath the whole time, lest Chanyeol would kick him for something as silly as breathing too loud.

Wordlessly, Chanyeol shifted the gear in reverse. He braced his arm on the back of Jongin’s seat as he reversed. Such an invasion of space. Jongin inched away until he pressed up against the window.

On warm days like these, Sehun would roll down the windows and together, he and Jongin would bolt out whatever silly pop song was on the radio. Chanyeol preferred the A/C, and the sound of the car on the road, it seemed. Jongin suddenly wondered if he was breathing too loud. Louder than the A/C?

They arrived at Jongin’s school in seven minutes and thirty-two seconds. “Thanks—you,” Jongin spluttered, hurrying to unbuckle himself. He hadn’t noticed Chanyeol doing the same until they both opened the door to get out. “No, you don’t have too—” Jongin gave up. There was no point. Chanyeol had already gotten out and moved toward the trunk. He retrieved Jongin’s table and carried it up the stairs to the front entrance. Jongin suspected he did it so he wouldn’t have to take the long way around.

Chanyeol raised his brows as if to say _Anything else? _Jongin didn’t know any other person who could manage to still look so disinterested in everything like Chanyeol could.

“Thank you.”

This was unprecedented. Sehun would be having heart palpitations if he saw Chanyeol _helping_ Jongin with anything. Jongin wondered if he should ask for a picture to commemorate the moment. This was truly a win for both of them. _Progress_.

**4 – Jongin | 1 – Chanyeol **

Chanyeol said nothing and started down the stairs. Jongin nearly turned, but something in him wouldn’t allow him to let them separate like this.

“Good luck on your interview! If you can muster up a smile, I’m sure they’ll at least consider you.”

Chanyeol didn’t look back. He didn't have to in order to flick Jongin off. Jongin cracked a smile. _That bastard._ Chanyeol raised his other free arm and folder it over his head, tapping the watch with his pointer finger.

Jongin’s smile fell. “_Oh, shit!” _He was back to moving.

**4 – Jongin | 2 – Chanyeol **

When he got to class, his instructor said, “Most people aren’t happy to be late, Mr. Kim.”

Jongin paused. “Huh?”

“The whole class saw you; it wasn’t just me. Tell us: did you get the girl’s number?”

His classmates laughed, and Jongin forced a chuckle as he hurried to his position to set up his station. In a small class with a cool instructor, it was easy for everyone to become comfortable enough to joke around. Most of the time, Jongin thought the jokes were funny. This wasn’t one of those times.

Wherever he went, the womanizer jokes followed, and they had always made him uncomfortable. He never knew why.

## ***

“If he gave you a ride, that makes you at least friendly. Doesn’t it?” Elkie wasn’t asking Jongin as she filled glasses of ice with the water nozzle. She poked her finger in the pink bubble Seungyeon blew, laughing behind her hand when it popped. The melodic sound suited her angelic face.

Seungyeon smacked away, hard at work on forming a new one. She was _supposed_ to be filling up the pitchers on her cart. “The way I see it,” she said, “If he helped carry your heavy ass _massage table_ not once, but _two times_” – she made a peace sign, her polished nails adding an extra inch to the length of her fingers –_ “and_ without asking, then that makes you _more_ than friendly.”

Jongin frowned, not liking the sound of that. He was starting to regret confiding in them.

Once Tuesday morning classes had ended, Jongin was usually scheduled to work at the Casino, and that Tuesday before Thanksgiving had been no different. He didn’t do anything particularly fancy there. He was more or less a glorified server that worked the various events—the occasional wedding, business dinners, and the like—but he never told anyone that unless they asked. It was cool to say he worked at a Casino. Not so cool to specify.

It _was_ a cool gig, though, and he enjoyed almost every aspect of his job, including the pay. Besides the chance to experience different types of events he otherwise probably would have never experienced in his life; he loved his co-workers. His favorites were two girls around his age, Elkie and Seungyeon.

Although, he never really talked to them outside of work, Elkie and Seungyeon were probably the closest people to him behind Sehun. Yes, he _was_ capable of making more than one friend. There was just something comforting about them that allowed Jongin to open up to them. Their closeness hadn’t gone ignored.

He commonly got asked if he was dating or hooking up with them since they were the only ones he really socialized with at work. At first, those insinuations had left him annoyed, but after months of hearing it, it had become sort of an inside joke between the three of them. Pretty soon, if anyone asked, they would say that they _did_, in fact, get together for a hot and steamy threesome about once a month or so.

They were the reason he had ended up in Chanyeol’s room convinced they were friends with Chanyeol breathing down his neck. But that came later.

“Look at his face,” Elkie said, maneuvering the nozzle over the ice-filled pitchers herself. “I think he’s getting the wrong idea!”

“It makes you _friends_,” Seungyeon clarified, long lashes fluttering. “Boys are such gutter-brains.”

“Seungyeon, Jongin isn’t a gutter-brain. He’s too soft for that!”

“Hey! I’m neither of those!” Jongin felt his bottom lip jutting out as he said it. He had no clue what a gutter-brain was, but he didn’t like the association that came with being “soft”.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean soft like that, Jongin.” Elkie touched his arm. “I just meant… innocent. Mature. Like you don’t think—"

“Yeah, I know what you meant,” Jongin sighed. He removed her hand from his, squeezing it lightly before he let go. It wasn’t a big deal.

Later on, the three of them stood idly by as they waited for the guests to clear their plates.

“It’s only awkward if he makes is awkward, right?” Elkie whispered. Or rather, her voice was naturally quiet so

Seungyeon agreed, blowing a tiny bubble as to not get caught. “All you have to do is _act_ like you’re friends, and boom—_no_ more awkwardness.”

Jongin shook his head. “I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“It works for _me_.”

Elkie nodded and leaned into Jongin. “It does.”

Jongin sighed. Maybe he would give it a try. It was the single thought he had wrestled with until he got home.

It was an _effort_ he would regret.

## ***

Jongin knocked once, then scolded himself for doing so before he pushed open Chanyeol’s bedroom door. He and Sehun never knocked. Friends didn’t knock.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Chanyeol eyes went wide with shock when they landed on Jongin. The guitar in his hand nearly slipped from his hands. Jongin hadn’t even known he played any instruments. Or had he?

“What are you—?” choked out Chanyeol, startled, and rightfully so, seeing as Jongin had never so much as stepped into his room before—let alone barged in unannounced. He wasn’t Sehun. And it wasn’t an accident. Chanyeol had the master bedroom which was closest to the living room. It was also completely opposite of Sehun’s and Jongin’s rooms which occupied the other half of the apartment along with the kitchen. No matter which way it was spun, there was just no way Jongin could have made a mistake.

For once, Jongin was able to follow Chanyeol’s train of thought, and a confidence he hadn’t felt before bloomed within him. Any second doubts he had contemplated over the entire walk home from work had subsided. They _were _friends. Whether Chanyeol acknowledged it or felt comfortable about it or not: They. Were. Friends.

_Or, maybe not._

“How’d the interview go?”

Chanyeol blinked as if he didn’t know what Jongin was talking about. “What—_Get out?_”

Now, it was Jongin’s turn to react the same. “What?” That was not what he had been expecting. He had a feeling his co-workers had been wrong about things.

“Get out.”

Jongin barked out a laugh, disbelieving his own ears. “Are you going to make a big deal out of telling me this, too? I just want to know how it went.”

Chanyeol set his guitar on his bed and stood up. For a second, Jongin thought he would never stop growing (but he did, thankfully.) Chanyeol moved forward, and Jongin quickly slipped around the door before shutting it behind him. He flattened him against it, stretching himself as tall as his work loafers would allow him. He wasn’t going to give Chanyeol the opportunity to pull that stunt he did in the living room yesterday.

Chanyeol stopped just short of a foot from him, nostrils flaring. Boy, were they close again. “So,” Jongin offered a smile, “How’d it go—"

“Get out.”

Jongin sighed. He didn’t want things to turn out this way. “Just tell me how it went.”

“Get. Out.” Chanyeol growled, voice rumbling so deep within his chest Jongin was sure _he_ felt the vibrations of it.

“I don’t like being yelled at.”

“I didn’t yell,” Chanyeol said flatly, and he was right. If anything, his voice had gotten lower; but Jongin was smart enough to use a different system of judging when it came to Chanyeol. The lower his voice the worse on the scale it was.

“That _is_ your ‘yelling’. You’re just wired differently.”

Chanyeol’s lip twitched, and he exhaled. The tension in his body slipped away and he backed away. He opened his dresser and stopped to pull off his shirt.

Jongin swallowed. “What are you doing?”

Chanyeol pulled a sweatshirt overhead. He sat on his bed with a pair of socks and pulled out a shoebox from underneath.

“What are you doing?” Jongin repeated.

“Leaving,” Chanyeol said slipping into his tennis shoes and tightening them with his laces.

“_This late?” _Jongin said incredulously.

Chanyeol looked at him. _Yeah, this late_.

“Where are you going to go? It’s like…” Chanyeol waited for his reasoning and Jongin shrugged. “It’s really cold, man.” Jongin said lamely. Chanyeol shoved his wallet and keys in the pocket of his hoodie, as if to point out why he changed. But he was still wearing shorts, so he wasn’t completely prepared.

Chanyeol stopped in front of him when he was done getting dressed.

“Move.”

“You never said where you were going,” Jongin replied stubbornly. Or how his interview went. _Or_ what the name of that damn PC game had been.

Chanyeol’s lips thinned. Suddenly his hands were creeping towards Jongin’s waist. Jongin moved preemptively, jumping to the side. It was far enough for Chanyeol to yank the door open and escape. No, not _escape_—Jongin wasn’t keeping him _prisoner_—runaway.

Jongin scrambled after him. “Chanyeol!” he whined in the same way he did to Sehun.

Chanyeol stopped at the door.

“Where are you _going_?” Jongin hated how desperate he sounded, but geez, was it so damn hard to answer a freaking question?

“Gym.”

Jongin wanted him to turn around. Real conversations were had face-to-face.

“Can you look at me when you speak, or is that impossible?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he Jongin regretted it.

“I don’t want to see you when I get back,” Chanyeol growled to the door before shutting it _firmly_ behind him. Even his door slams were controlled. So, what had his reaction this morning been about?

“You’re gonna see me anyway,” Jongin grumbled back to the door. He dropped in a chair in the kitchen and pulled out his phone. “’Cuz I’ll be waiting right here.”

He fell asleep waiting.

## ***

_There’s someone trying to break in because they think we’re all away for Thanksgiving Break!_

It wasn’t true, but it was the thought that had Jongin jolting awake in his seat. _What was that noise? _

He had to gather his senses. He peeled his cheek from the dinner table, squinting around. The only light in the room were the city lights blinking in from outside and the faint glove of the digital clock on the stove. It was well past midnight—nearly 2AM. He had gotten home three hours ago!

Jongin heard the sound again and startled just as badly as he had when he woke up. It came from the door and he flipped out of his seat moving away from the door.

Under the crack of the door, where the light of the hallway bled through, a shadow shifted back and forth. There _was_ a person there.

Jongin closed his eyes to focus in on the sound. It sounded like… keys jingling?

Jongin peaked out the peephole.

_Oh._

_Oh, yeah!_

Now, he remembered.

Jongin unlocked the door, swinging it open with unintended ferocity.

“You’re finally back, I see.”

“Jongin, please.” Chanyeol lumbered forward. Had he have not been going at a snail’s pace, he would have bulldozed Jongin over. He held a pack of ice over his shoulder.

Jongin’s face fell. He locked the door behind him. “What happened?” Chanyeol hadn’t made it far when he asked, but he was close enough to his door that he could make a speedy getaway if he wanted to. Well, maybe just a _regular_ getaway considering his state.

“I told you I didn’t want to see you when I got back.”

“Are you serious?” Jongin calmed himself. He didn’t want to agitate him. “Did you hurt yourself?”

For once, Chanyeol asked him a question: “Why do you care?”

It was so striking, it caught Jongin off guard. He fell against the door. He was tempted to say he didn’t, just to be bratty, but he knew that didn’t align with what he felt. Jongin didn’t have a direct answer for his question, at least one he had the time to actually think about.

“Because you look like you’re in serious pain?” Jongin answered.

Chanyeol scoffed. “Captain Obvious.”

“Don’t be an ass,” Jongin said. He had given the obvious response; he hadn’t quite delivered a proper _answer_ to his question, though. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“Are _you_ going to drive me there?”

Jongin bit his cheek. Was this _sarcasm_ he was hearing? From his monotonal, expressionless Chanyeol? Jongin hated himself for wanting to laugh at his own expense. Outwardly, he didn’t want to give Chanyeol the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten one up on him. Inwardly, he could admit when a joke was good.

**4 – Jongin | 3 – Chanyeol **

“Back injuries can be severe if left untreated,” Jongin gritted out, holding his breath to suffocate the laughter within him until it flickered out like a flame starved of air.

“You’re a masseuse, not a doctor. Mind your business.” Chanyeol disappeared behind his room door.

Jongin knocked on his door softly. He had wanted to say he’d taken plenty of classes that nurses, and doctors had taken before, but he didn’t. Instead, he said:

“Hey… if you need anything… just let me know, alright?”

A grumbled shut up is all he heard.

## ***

“Are you alright?” Jongin glanced up from his untouched plate of food at Elkie. Her soft voice had barely reached him across the table; it was the fact that it was tinged with concern that made him snap out of it. She bit into a piece of bacon, tentatively, and Jongin reached for one of his own. Despite his lack of appetite, he had noticed that she often felt hesitant to be the only one eating or enjoying her meal.

Suddenly, Seungyeon was squinting at him. “No, you can tell something’s _different_ about him. _Off.” _

She was right. Something was different. Jongin wasn’t sure if he was up to mentioning it, though.

After a second of waggling her all-knowing, sharply manicured finger, Seungyeon tapped the table. “He’s _brooding_.”

And right again she was. He _was_ brooding, though there was no cool cape involved. Just a long face fraught with lots of guilt.

The three of them sat in the break room with a cart full of the breakfast buffet, food they _should_ have been enjoying. While the meeting in the large room they had just served took place, all they could do was wait. They couldn’t very well stack the chairs that people were still sitting in.

“Is everything alright at home?” Elkie asked, looking more and more concerned by the minute. Jongin hated how she seemed to react to his problems before she even knew what they were. He couldn’t hide much from her when he imagined _her_ _imagining_ the worst.

Seungyeon elbowed Jongin. “_Well?_ The audience is _waiting_.” She was less patient.

Jongin sighed. “I’m worried.”

“About what?” asked Seungyeon while Elkie asked, “About who?” She went on to add. “Sehun?”

“Chanyeol,” Jongin corrected.

The girls both exchanged a look of confusion.

“_Chanyeol? _Who is _that_, Jongin?”

Jongin frowned. “My _roommate?_” How long had they worked together? Almost a year now? They should’ve known this.

Seungyeon gasped while Elkie’s mouth formed a small ‘O’ shape.

“So, _that’s_ the mysterious roommate’s name_?”_ Seungyeon shook her head, her earrings dangling neatly. “And Jongin is worried about _him?_ Am I _hearing_ this correctly?”

Jongin bit into a sliced apple, choosing not to respond.

Seungyeon tapped her chin, eyes narrowing in a train of thought that led nowhere good. “Weird. All you _normally_ talk about is Sehun, but now that _he’s_ _gone_, you’ve moved onto your roommate.”

Jongin refused to let that go unchecked. “I haven’t _moved on_ from _anybody_. He’s just out of town; what is there to talk about?”

“You’ve managed before,” Seungyeon said half-heartedly. She leaned low so only Elkie (and the whole breakroom) could hear her. “I kind of _like_ this roommate!”

Elkie wore a pinched expression, thinking. “Speaking of which, how did last night go? With your friend?” Jongin could tell that she had connected the dots already.

“Ooh, _wait a minute! _Oh, yeah! How _did_ last night go, then? With the _friend_ thingy.” Seungyeon popped in a piece of bubble gum and began chewing quickly. It was a telltale sign of her interest.

Jongin crossed his arms. “Not well. He injured his back because of me.”

Elkie gasped and covered her mouth. “No… Are you saying it got physical?” Jongin could feel Elkie’s securitizing gaze roaming over him for bruises she hadn’t noticed before. There were none, because—

“It wasn’t that type of physical.” Jongin explained. He told them how he had provoked Chanyeol into leaving the house, and how he ended up getting hurt because of it. “He could barely move, but when I said something, he told me to m—to stay out of it. I feel like shit.”

Elkie reached across the table, resting her soft hand over his. “You’re so sweet, Jongin. But you didn’t injure him. It was an accident.”

Jongin rolled his head around. “He wouldn’t be injured if I left him alone.”

Seungyeon pursed her lips. “Why don’t you just _make_ it up to him or something? Instead of crying over it? And doing nothing? Like usual?” Seungyeon had never been all that aware with how direct her advice could come across as. She was too busy applying her lip gloss using her compact mirror to see the pointed looks Elkie was sending her.

Elkie forced a chuckle. “I think what she means is that if you feel bad, maybe you’ll feel better by doing something helpful, anyway. Even if he doesn’t want your help, that doesn’t necessarily mean you don’t have to give it anyway. Does that make sense?”

Jongin chewed on his lip. Yeah, that did make sense. Since when he listened to Chanyeol in the first place. Though, if he was committing to helping him, that begged a new question.

“But how? I don’t know anything about him.” It wasn’t a new revelation, but saying it aloud made a lot of their reality sink it. He truly did not know anything about Chanyeol. Not really. He knew nothing about his family, nothing about his preferred sports, favorite hobbies, outlandish interests, or tastes in music. He hadn’t even known Chanyeol was capable of playing music until he saw the guitar yesterday. Chanyeol was like a book that had sat on his shelf for years, unread and dusted over. Right when Jongin remembered he could read, the book’s pages refused to unstick.

“I’m sure you can think of _something_,” Seungyeon provided, helpfully, tapping her lips and puckering.

Casually, Elkie reached over and wiped at the corner of Seungyeon’s mouth. “What about a _massage_?” she chirped.

Jongin laughed. “What? A massage? Me? Give Chanyeol a massage?”

“Aren’t you _always_ going on and on about needing to massage a _certain amount of people_ for your course, though?” Seungyeon asked, holding back no punches. Jongin wished he could deny that. “A massage sounds like the _perfect way_ to make it up to him. It’s right up your alley, no?”

He continued laughing. The only one. “Yeah, but—"

“Besides, you can’t just keep rubbing down your _boy toy_—I mean Sehun—and think that’ll count.”

“I agree, Jongin.” Elkie butted in before he could reply. “I think it’ll be a great idea. Let us know how it goes.” She continued eating her food, acting as if everything had been decided.

This was the truth about Jongin’s co-workers:

Seungyeon was the devil disguised as a bubblegum-popping angel.

Elkie was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Whenever Jongin had a problem, the girls would take different approaches in exploring it, but once _they_ agreed on a solution _for him_, it was a wrap.

Jongin often had no say in how to go about situations himself. He was just expected to do as they said, and report back.

It was blasphemy!

At points like this, there would be no point protesting. All he could do was stand his ground and make a strategic retreat. So, he did.

“No way.” Jongin stood up from the table. He had heard enough. “I’m keeping my hands away from him as far as possible,” he said, laughing. He couldn’t stop. Just the thought of him touching Chanyeol made him shudder. It was just so ridiculous. “I won’t even consider it.”

## ***

Jongin was considering it.

He stood outside of Chanyeol’s door again, poised to knock for the third time that week—the third day in a row. He had thought about how he could make it up with Chanyeol without losing his dignity, and the only solution he had found was to swallow his pride and offer him a massage. He convinced himself it was for the grade. _That_ was the priority. If Chanyeol declined, no harm done. He had tried his best and would be on his way.

Jongin knocked. No answer. He considered waiting, then figured it redundant. Chanyeol wasn’t going to toss him out with his broken back.

He opened the door and pushed himself inside.

Chanyeol wasn’t here.

Jongin heard the steady stream of piss in the bathroom.

He was here.

Before he returned, Jongin decided to make himself comfortable. He sat down at the end furthest from the computer, bouncing. Chanyeol’s bed was firm, probably too hard for his tender back. A few pillows and an old blanket had been piled together. Apparently, Chanyeol agreed.

With Chanyeol still gone, Jongin took a moment to take in his room. After all, this was just his second time seeing the inside of it. Sehun and Jongin often kept their doors open since they frequented between them and since they were visible from the kitchen, Chanyeol knew what their rooms looked like. It was almost selfish of him _not_ to leave his door wide open, too.

The faucet turned on. He was a post-piss washer, Jongin noted amusedly. _Classy._

Chanyeol had a room Jongin would describe as “unbefitting of the person who actually lived here.” If Chanyeol was a chameleon that couldn’t blend in with anything, his room was all the colors. It more than made up for his lackluster personality. His guitar stand prepped against the tv that housed a cabinet full of video game systems and video games. His desk was surprisingly neat with a few pens and notebooks occupying it. From what little of his closet Jongin could see through the ajar door, it didn’t seem dirty. In fact, there weren’t many clothes on Chanyeol’s floor, a stark contrast to Jongin’s room. Whatever free space on the wall remained was dotted by posters, of artists and celebrities Jongin had never heard of. That sucked. He couldn’t even ask Chanyeol about them and strike up a conversation.

The bathroom door opened and Chanyeol exited. Slowly. He was still pulling up his shorts over his floppy cock. Jongin turned his head, pretending he hadn’t seen it.

He heard Chanyeol stop. “What?”

“Are you okay?” Jongin asked.

Chanyeol sighed. He moved around his room slow and languish, stopping at his dresser. He was stiff as a stiffy. _Okay, inappropriate _but how could he _not _make a comment on _it_. He’d just been flashed! It was his defense mechanism to awkward situation.

“Just answer the question,” Jongin replied calmly.

“Jongin, please.” His deep voice barely traveling across his room. Jongin didn’t like the way he sounded, weak and frail. Beyond that, it was especially weird hearing Chanyeol’s name in his mouth, and of the two times he’d said it—both were pleading. Jongin guessed he had used Chanyeol’s name in the same tone. How weird.

“I’m not here to argue,” Jongin said softly. He wasn’t. “I just want to know if you’re okay?”

Chanyeol grabbed a bottle and spilled the colorful contents across the dresser. He grabbed one and raised it to his mouth slowly. He repeated the motion with an open water bottle. He could barely lean back far enough for the water to spill out. He swallowed harshly.

“Do I _look_ okay?” Chanyeol rasped, looking at him directly since Jongin had first entered. He couldn’t even hide the pain he was enduring.

“No. Did you go to the doctors?”

“No. Can’t move.”

“Did you call them?”

“Said if not pressing, take ibuprofen.” Chanyeol stuck out his tongue. _All gone, see?_

“What did you just take?” It wasn’t ibuprofen, that was for sure. Jongin may not have been a doctor, but he wasn’t a fool, either.

“Vitamin.”

“Do you want ibuprofen?”

“No. Hate drugs.”

Understandable. There was a brief lull.

“Did you sleep well?”

“No. I did not. Are you done with your game of 21 questions?” Chanyeol pushed himself off of his dresser.

“It was only five, actually,” Jongin said, standing up to block Chanyeol from moving towards his bed. He was getting somewhere with this. “I have 16 more it looks like. I’m enjoying hearing you actually talk to me.”

“You’re impossible. And annoying.”

“You’re in pain. And annoying, too.”

“Captain Obvious strikes again.”

“Lemme help?” Jongin intercepted Chanyeol’s immediate _“No,”_ with an immediate _“Please_?”.

Chanyeol faced the window. The moon which should’ve been distinguishable from the side of the building was nowhere to be seen.

“How?” Chanyeol sounded as if he struggled to pronounce the word.

“A massage.” Chanyeol almost laughed and Jongin mimicked him. “Yeah, I know. I’m not too keen on doing it, either.”

“Then why offer?”

_Because you’re in pain, and I feel bad. Because I feel responsible and want to make it up to you._

Jongin shrugged. “It’s for an assignment. I’ve massaged Sehun too many times for him to count anymore.”

Chanyeol eyed him. “You’re wanna fuck up my back even more?”

“The way you’re moving… _hell_, you might just be right.” Jongin wasn’t kidding, but he smiled anyhow. “But if anything feels wrong, we can stop.”

“I’ll pass. I’ll be fine. With more rest.”

Jongin pushed on his chest. _Not so fast, bucko._

“Aren’t you in the same clothes from last night?” Jongin asked. “Can you even shower with your back hurting?”

Chanyeol rolled his eyes and closed them. “Seriously.”

“I’m not a wizard or a doctor,” Jongin pressed forward, “I can’t magically fix your back for you, but I _can _at least alleviate some of the pain for you. I may still be in school, but I’m no amateur. Just let me try to work out any major kinks in your back. From what I can tell, you don’t have much to lose.”

Chanyeol opened his eyes slowly, looking sleepy, worn out, and at the end of its wits. In other words, he looked desperate.

Jongin pulled out his trump card. “_Please, Chanyeol?_ A free massage isn’t something you just pass up.”

Jongin saw it—the instant concession as Chanyeol’s back pain took over his rational mind. Jaw clenched, he nodded. “Fine.”

Jongin gave a wry smile.

**5 – Jongin | 3 – Chanyeol **

## ***

“Somebody came prepared.” Chanyeol said, taking in the sight of the living room.

“Oh, whatever do you mean?” Jongin asked innocently.

After Chanyeol had waved the white flag a, Jongin had relocated them to the living room where his massage table had conveniently been set up almost as if it had been waiting for him. Transforming the room had been effortlessly. After shoving the coffee table and the couches towards the wall, he set up his table straight in the middle. The lights had been dimmed in favor of the red LED lights dotting the corners. Sandalwood incense burned from the windowsill, its aroma rich and earthy—just the way Jongin liked it. Paired with his preferred lavender massage oil, Chanyeol’s body was in for the full aromatherapeutic treatment. A few towels draped over the armrest. His set up was perfect.

“Shirt off. Shorts off,” Jongin chirped.

Chanyeol stared at him.

“What?”

“I have to be butt naked for this?”

Jongin held back his laugh. _He was a professional, after all._

“Geez, it’s a _full_-body massage, not a kitty rub—of course! And it won’t be as effective for either of us if there’s material in the way. You’ll obviously be covered with a towel for the most part, though admittedly that doesn’t leave much to the imagination…” Jongin trailed off purposely. “If you’re feeling shy, though, then I _guess_ we can always—"

“I’m not shy,” Chanyeol said, matter-of-factly.

Jongin nodded. “Good. Because I was going to say, I already saw your dick when you came out of the bathroom, and you don’t have much of an ass anyway, so there’s really no need to be modest,” he laughed. “It’s nothing we haven’t seen before. That’s what they say, am I right?” Jongin continued on, “Actually, I’ve probably seen a lot of more private parts than you’d think. In this line of work, slips and stuff are common. You get used to over time.”

Chanyeol glared at him. “Do you make all your clients uncomfortable like this?”

“Oh,” Jongin cocked his head, “is my _client _uncomfortable right now?” He was thoroughly enjoying this, and Chanyeol knew it.

“You’re so annoying. Will you be talking my head off the whole time, too, because if that’s the case then I’ll just go limp back to my room.”

Jongin looked up through his lashes, pouting slightly. “No, I’m actually _very_ professional during my massages. Once I set the mood, all is left is for me to get started. Then, I’m entranced.”

Chanyeol pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. “I regret.”

“Okay, and? You’re still not undressed.”

“Hard to move,” Chanyeol said, demonstrating by raising his arms and wincing.

“That bad?” Jongin rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’ll help.”

Chanyeol jolted away from his hands. “_No_.”

_Oh, how the tables have turned._

“Come on! Don’t be a baby! We don’t have all day, now.” Jongin grabbed the bottom of Chanyeol’s shirt and lifted it pass his rolling, hard abs and rolling mounds of muscle. “Lift your arms, big boy.” Pained, Chanyeol did it slowly, nostrils flaring; and Jongin pulled it off as quickly as possible. If he hadn’t been nearly as tall as Chanyeol, he was afraid the giant would’ve been out of luck. “Now, shorts,” Jongin announced, giving a little mental prep for the both of them.

_It’s only awkward if he makes it awkward, right? _Elkie and Seungyeon giggled and pointed their fingers at him in his head.

Jongin bent down, hooking his fingers in the band of Chanyeol’s shorts and pulled. He would’ve been surprised to see a bare penis in his face instead of underwear had he not already seen that Chanyeol was freeballing. It wasn’t difficult to tell at all, though, truth be told. He wasn’t the smallest in the house, that was for sure.

Did Jongin know who _was_? He did. But he would take that knowledge with him to the grave.

Jongin stood up as soon as the shorts were lowered enough for gravity to take over. Chanyeol stepped out of it and before he could be anxious about his state of undress, Jongin held out the towels. Chanyeol struggled to wrap it around himself, unable to twist his waist much.

Jongin sighed. He really was a big baby. “Just lie down on your front. I’ll cover you.”

Watching Chanyeol climb the table was a painful experience with his wobbling and trembling and moving at a snail’s pace. By the time he had laid his body flat face down, Jongin had to switch the incense. As guided, Jongin covered Chanyeol’s pale ass. Then he took a step back to admire the fruits of his labor, the results of his _effort_. He couldn’t believe it. He had truly outdone himself. Here Chanyeol was, lying on _his _massage table about to get a massage from _him_—Jongin! Sehun would think this was the twilight zone. Chanyeol barely fit—his feet dangled off the edge—but he was here, and he was ready.

“You better keep it appropriate,” Chanyeol’s voice came out strange with his cheeks squished by the headrest. Below it, his massive forearms struggled to share the front armrest. “No funny business, _magic hands_.”

Jongin bit back a laugh. The implications weren’t lost on him. That was Sehun’s go-to compliment of him whenever he raved about how much he loved his massages, particularly the occasional special addition of some techniques. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Chanyeol had picked up on that, but it did. If Chanyeol kept notes on him, too—especially notes _like that_—then that meant Jongin wasn’t a complete blank space in his mind. Jongin wouldn’t admit how reassuring that was.

“If anything hurts—_or if_ _anything feels good_—let me know. We will begin shortly.”

“Don’t try me, Kim.”

For once, Jongin kept his witty retorts to himself. He put on soothing oriental music and closed his eyes. He had to meditate.

Whether Chanyeol realized it or not, his body would be doing plenty of speaking for the both of them.

_This_ was when Chanyeol would ruin everything.

## ***


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever Kim Jongin said—scratch it from your brains—it was all a lie. Don’t believe him.
> 
> He didn’t have half the facts to begin with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! :) It's been... waaay to freakin long! do you wanna know why? I'll tell you at the end! Enjoy! <3

Whatever Kim Jongin said—scratch it from your brains—it was all a lie. Don’t believe him.

He didn’t have _half_ the facts to begin with.

It was hard to clarify without getting into the finer details when but there was so much to explain! All of the pieces of the puzzle were within reach, but… putting those pieces together to create the bigger picture seemed like more trouble than it was worth. 

Still, if the complete story could help clear up some confusion and sort out some of the accusations and chaos caused by that night, ultimately, it would be worth it. Anything was worth it to clear Chanyeol’s name.

The truth was, the person to blame for everything that had come to be that fateful night was none other than Jongin himself. Not anyone else. Certainly not Chanyeol, for he _knew _better. He knew a lot more than he let on.

It did _not_ all begin with a stupid LED lamp, a burning deodorant stick, and scented baby oil. _That_ was ridiculous.

See, the fool had always been _him_—_Kim Jongin_. He was cast as the King of Fools from the moment Chanyeol first laid eyes on him. Unaware of his own power and influence in the events that would transpire, his ignorance led to his twisted misperception.

Kim Jongin was a jinx, a ticking time-bomb, a catalyst of unwanted change.

It was all _his _fault.

_He_ ruined everything.

And Chanyeol?

Chanyeol was just the victim caught in his crosshairs.

And the foundation he had spent years carefully building on top of, his new home away from the place he had always felt suffocated in, crumbled before his eyes. And in the choking aroma of that damn sandalwood incense and lavender oil, the culprit responsible for this destruction, _like an idiot_, had slapped a pair of handcuffs on the both of them—and swallowed the key.

Retrieving it would take—well, they weren’t there yet. Not by a longshot.

Roll it back.

## ***

Chanyeol had a much more interesting life story. He would describe it in two phases. Before his father became a crazed mass murderer and _after_. The before phase comprised most of his early childhood years up until his birthday where the numbers matched. He was a good kid, then. A happy kid.

Then… one night, his father decided he liked taking lives rather than saving them and went berserk. In a blink of an eye, Chanyeol’s world had flipped upside down, and he walked on the skies until it was safe to come back down again. 

Becoming grounded was the hardest thing he ever had to do. It required effort, _so much effort_, effort people twice his age didn’t posses. His mom and his uncle—his dad’s older brother—helped. Knowing they were suffering just as much, if not more, helped him not feel so alone. Knowing they were doing everything in their power to protect him helped him not feel so vulnerable. Knowing they were using all the resources available to track his father down helped him not feel so restless. 

Their marriage—just two years after the incident—helped undo all of those. Yeah, it really hadn’t helped him at all.

While other kids spent their teenage years yearning for adulthood and having a taste of it prematurely when they could—love and sex and self-expression—Chanyeol had spent his running away from of it. But it wasn’t by choice. The reasoning had everything to do with the one experience he couldn’t escape from—the awkwardness of puberty.

Chanyeol’s adolescence came with a warning tag and a long list of side effects. Sharp-toothed and hairy side effects. _Very hairy_.

He took medicine to suppress them. A small gray tablet that cursed his DNA, tied it up and stripped it of its identity.

Because of this happy hour, golden dose of salvation, his mother could finally sleep at night without padlocking his bedroom door. Because of this precautionary poison, he would never grow up to be like the members of his dad’s side of the family. Or at least, that was the hope. It certainly had been the intention.

As the excuses changed from “see, he’s not exhibiting anything,” to “he’s a male, the process always happens early on,” to “he’s already come of age—we’re okay,” to “this can’t be possible, you… you’ll end up just like him!” it turned out that the “this is a necessary evil, I'm sorry” had been for naught.

In the end, he was the same; and that was the problem. He was no longer just an average, plain, human boy in the eyes of his mother. He was a cunning, malicious, human beast with the eyes of a monster.

It was only natural that he would leave. After all, he had spent most of his life packing away bits and pieces of himself. Although he wasn’t sure how much he left behind, he knew how much had been taken from him. He came back once for a second chance, but the face of the moon never changed. So, why should he?

If Jongin had known what he was capable of, maybe the face of the moon that reflected Chanyeol’s fate would’ve stayed the same, too. He hadn’t realized just how much he fucked everything up…even _after _everything went to shit.

And the worst part of it was—Chanyeol hadn’t a clue, either. There was no way he could have predicted what was to come. He was in the dark as much as Jongin was—and that scared the living hell out of him.

Just what the fuck was happening?

And how did he ever let it come to this?

## ***

The beast was growing insatiable, and the pain was getting worse.

Of course, his three calls went straight to voicemail.

Chanyeol stopped rubbing his temples and ripped his headphones out of his ears. The music helped but listening to it any longer would kill his eardrums. Apparently, _it_ was an EDM fan. 

With a sigh, he sunk back into the flattened pillows of the hard loveseat he hated sitting on. Why his roommates had picked out such cheap furniture if none of them were ever going to use it never made any sense to him. If he chipped in, then he was going to put it to use, even if it _did _murder his back in the process.

Sehun shuffled into the room with a bunch of bags in his arms. He dumped them at door before kicking them out of the way until they were lined somewhat neatly along the wall.

“You’re not secretly moving out, are you?”

“And leave you all alone with Jongin?” Sehun cackled before turning with a grimace-infused smile. “He’s gonna be so moody when he comes back home.”

Chanyeol shrugged and booted the game system up. The black loading screen was so compelling—or would be, if only he couldn’t see Sehun squinting at him through the TV screen’s reflection.

“I don’t know how he’s going to survive a week without me.”

Boy, was this game taking forever to load.

“Do you think he’ll make it?”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Chanyeol said. “It’s just a week, anyway.”

Sehun hummed. “Maybe. He’s pretty understanding.” Chanyeol side-eyed him across the room. “He _can_ be pretty understanding… when he wants to be.”

If that wasn’t the understatement of the year. Jongin was as rational as children came.

The screen burst alive with fluorescent colors and animated noise broke through the silence. Finally. “Are we finishing this game or what?”

Sehun waddled over and settled on the long couch adjacent to Chanyeol’s with his own controller in hand.

“Which level did we leave off on?”

“This one,” Chanyeol said, and as the game warped them to their previous destination, their conversation fell to the back of their minds.

Or rather, Chanyeol _pushed_ the conversation to the back of his mind. No doubt, it would be rehashed_— and with theatrics!_ —when _he _returned home. Chanyeol wanted at least a _few_ moments of peace before then. Was that too much to ask for?

Apparently, yes.

Jongin came home (_a smidgen earlier than usual)_ the way a kicked puppy did, crestfallen, desperate and yet still seeking attention. He padded over to the only person in the room who would sincerely give it to him and draped himself over the edge of the couch and onto Sehun’s lap. Like clockwork, soon commenced his whining. Chanyeol clenched his jaw and mashed the buttons underneath his thumbs harder, tapping fast enough to take care of both his _and _Sehun’s monsters that were piling up at an increasing rate.

“Why can’t you take me with you?” was Jongin’s first irrational but expected request. Chanyeol had nearly asked Sehun the same thing a week back when his plans were still being finalized. Luckily, Chanyeol possessed enough wits about him to inquire about Johnny, instead, who was in the same faculty. If he remembered correctly, Johnny and his girlfriend were a couple on their campus notorious for never being apart and their nauseating PDA. Although, he had been out of university for nearly half a year, he doubted anything had changed. Sehun, wrinkled nose and all, took the bait, and the answer to Jongin’s question befell upon him _without_ the hassle. A piece of cake.

The Johnny and his girlfriend combo gagged Jongin, too. There was no resisting that one.

Fatuously, Sehun apologized and petted Jongin’s hair like one would caress a legitimate puppy. Worse yet, Jongin _melted_ under the touch. Chanyeol shivered. 

No matter how many months had passed since they’ve all began living together, digesting Sehun and Jongin’s peculiar physical intimacy never came easy. It was jarring to see, and quite frankly, at times it felt abnormal. As for _why _that was the case, Chanyeol had his suspicions but… no, he couldn’t be positive for sure. And he wouldn’t know _for sure_ unless he directly interacted with Jongin, but that would be like standing in the road wondering if the driver could see him in the headlights or not. It wasn't a gamble he wanted to risk anytime soon.

Chanyeol’s controller vibrates violently. Fuck, they were getting swarmed. He hated distractions.

Clearing his throat, he said: “We’re dying.”

Sehun apologized with his signature gleeful _get-out-of-jail-free_ laughter and picked up his controller.

Jongin looked at Chanyeol like he was a tiny, little stain on the wall, far enough so that it was impossible to tell if it was moving—or if the eyes were playing tricks—but distinguished enough to still know that it didn’t belong on the pure white walls, anyhow. That was how Jongin always looked at him. Chanyeol resumed the game, unbothered.

This was how he wanted it to be. Between them.

Chanyeol felt another headache forming.

Wondering if Jongin was just going to continue laying in Sehun’s lap—disturbing his and Sehun’s remaining comfort time—he glanced back to Jongin.

His beady eyes were still boring right through him.

_Boo_, he thought before immersing himself in his character’s world completely. Or much as he could, anyway. His peripheral vision picked up every subtle movement Jongin made. Even distracted, though, Sehun was nowhere near his skill level so he never commented on his clunky gameplay. It was times like these where Chanyeol was thankful he knew by heart what they were playing. 

## ***

“My headaches are getting worse,” Chanyeol whispered into the phone, wary not to rouse his sleeping roommates. Although he had retreated to his room, they both occupied the couch. There was no telling how sound-proof his walls were, so he played it safe. The man on the other line must have been in the same boat because Chanyeol’s three ignored calls were finally returned well after dark, and he spoke with a hushed tone as well.

“Chanyeol, I thought we discussed this already.”

“No, I talked, and you treated me like the boy who cried wolf. I’m telling you there _aren’t_ any fake tears.” Chanyeol stopped pacing by his dresser to stare at himself in the mirror that sat atop. “I feel it. You know—_it_. Inside of me. Changing. Waking up.”

“It’s always been there. We’ve had you tested. It never went away. The pills you—never mind those. It’s just impossible. At your age, a natural transformation is impossible. Besides, it’s a _new moon_, Chanyeol. That should be more than—”

Scoffing, Chanyeol said: “You’re a fucking hypocrite, you know that? You say you’re there whenever I need anything, that you want to be here for me, but you can’t even listen to a goddamn word I’m saying without patronizing me!”

The man exhaled. “There’s no need to raise your voice. I’m just trying to help.”

“Are you?” Chanyeol growled.

“Come on, Chanyeol, I’m on your side. I have a lot more exposure with this kind of thing. That’s what I’m trying to make you see here, bud. There will be times when it's silent, then there will be times where it feels like it's scratching at the door, pounding to be set free, thirsting to go wild.” Chanyeol fought through the cold chill that settled around his body, tightening his jaw and going rigid. “Even without a shift, feeling it is normal. _This_ is normal. You’re still the same. That’s all I’m saying.”

“So, you’re not going to listen to me is what I’m hearing? Then, I’m hanging up. Thanks for nothing—”

“Chanyeol, wait! Don’t go.” Another sigh. “Look. I’m not going to lie to you. I still feel like it isn’t anything _worth_ worrying over, _but_… if you feel so strongly about it, then why don’t you—”

“No.” Chanyeol watched himself blink in the mirror, surprised at himself for such a quick visceral response. “No. I can’t believe you even…”

“Let me finish, Chanyeol. How can you know—”

“Because I _just do_,” Chanyeol spat. “’_Why don’t you come down for Thanksgiving? I can take a look, and we can say a prayer at the table and have a nice carved turkey with pumpkin pie like some big, happy family?’_ Is that what you were going to say?” The longer Chanyeol stared at himself, the more unfamiliar he became with his own features—his eyes, especially. Were they brick brown or _blood_ red?

“Chanyeol, just—just calm down and hear me out for a second, will you? Let’s talk like reasonable adults.”

“_Reasonable?_” Chanyeol laughed harshly. “You know she doesn’t want to see me.”

“She’s your mother.”

“And notice how the bridge ends there. Me being her son hasn’t obligated her to be there for me—don’t pull this card on me. It’s _sick_.”

The man sighed. “I’ve clearly made you upset. Why don’t we… Why don’t we end the call? It’s already late. You should get some rest.”

Chanyeol agreed.

He flung his phone across the room and it skidded across his bed where it hit the wall with a dull _thud_. 

_Fuck, _why the hell was he so upset?

Usually he was so calm and composed and distant when he spoke to… whenever he had to talk to them, but the beast had been making it so difficult lately for him to maintain his composure.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. Beast or no beast, he was still responsible for his actions and behavior. He needed to control his temperament. He needed to be better than _him_. 

Otherwise, how the hell was he going to survive the week with Kim Jongin’s annoying ass?

Ugh, just thinking about it brought on a headache.

Chanyeol pushed himself to his feet and changed into a breathable shirt. As spacious as his master bedroom was compared to his roommates, the squareness of it reminded him of a cage. 

Predictably, he hated cages, so whenever he got in one of his moods, he escaped.

The gym was his go-to place. It was the best way for him to kill excess energy and unwind while staying out of trouble.

When he left, his roommates were still cuddled up on the couch. When he returned, two hours later, they weren’t.

Sehun stood in front of the fridge holding a glass of water. Chanyeol would’ve thought he was reading the reminders posted there, except none of them ever bothered to write any.

“Earth to Sehun.”

Sehun startled and smiled. “Oh, hey, enjoy your late-night workout?”

Chanyeol could have been a burglar and Sehun would’ve been trying to guess what was inside the freezer before he opened it. It hadn’t been the first time Chanyeol had caught Sehun in a strange daze. Coincidently Jongin was never around to see it. Suspicious, no?

“What are you doing?” ‘_Where’s Jongin?’ _he almost asked, but he didn’t care really. As long as he wasn’t around, Chanyeol would never complain.

“Drinking water,” Sehun chirped, as happy as can be for 2 AM, according to the glowing stove next to him.

“Right.” Chanyeol said, moving towards his room. _Weird_.

A shower was calling his name, so he made a beeline straight for his bathroom. He was lucky to have his own personal one. He didn’t even have to pay more for it. 

While waiting for his water to warm up, Sehun popped his head in his room. He was the only one Chanyeol allowed to do so without notice. “Hey, can we talk?”

Chanyeol waited until he stripped and stepped into the shower to reply. “About?”

“This week. Spending time with Jongin.”

_Ugh._

“Don’t make that face!” Sehun laughed.

Could he really see him through the shower glass? 

Deciding not to comment, Chanyeol said: “Make it quick, Sehun. I’m tired.” It had been a long day, and all Chanyeol wanted to do was rinse off and drift off. Not _think_ about and _talk _about Kim Jongin. Especially why he was naked and vulnerable.

“Can you…You and Jongin don’t get along for some reason. I don’t know why—I’m not sure even you two know why—but I would like it if you guys could take some time this week to remedy that. At least, fill the gap a little.”

Chanyeol turned off the water and exited, yanking his towel to dry his hair. “You’re asking for a lot,” Chanyeol said, toweling the rest of himself off unabashed. “We’re not kids, Sehun. We’re civil—me and him.” He shrugged. “Could be worse.”

“You’re not civil—you pretend each other doesn’t exist.”

“Is that not the same thing?” Chanyeol brushed past Sehun to get to his room who stuck to his door frame, no different from a gangly spider.

“I’m not asking you to become best friends,” he said. “I’m just asking you to make an _effort_. You’re more alike than you realize.”

Chanyeol _refused _to entertain that.

“How about this,” he started as his briefs snapped against his waist. “I’ll make an _effort_ not to _completely_ ignore him. That’s it.” Forgoing a shirt, he dove into his bed and shimmed under the sheets until he was comfortable. “Now. Can you tuck me in and kiss me goodnight? Oh, and turn off the light, please? Pretend I’m Jongin.” 

Even though he was clearly _joking_, Sehun pranced over _anyway_ and placed a big, fat, wet one on his forever while he choked Chanyeol with his own comforter.

“Be good to him this week, Chanyeol. He’s a great guy,” Sehun insisted, flipping off the switch and plunging the room in darkness. No moonlight out today. “It’s impossible to _not_ like him.”

Chanyeol snored as loudly as he could, and Sehun chuckled before closing the door behind him.

_Define: impossible._

Chanyeol thought, smiling.

Jongin could be the nicest guy in the world, but that still wouldn’t change the fact that:

1) He was a witch.

And:

2) Witches were evil.

_Everyone_ knew that.

## ***

This was the unadulterated version of their background:

Amongst the three of them, only Sehun was fully human. Chanyeol had no problems with humans. In fact, he was half-human, the son of a human woman and a werewolf man.

While Chanyeol hadn’t grown up in a Pernat dominant community, there were a few common bits of common knowledge he had picked up over the years.

Jongin, as Chanyeol suspected, was a type of Pernat (a su**pernat**ural creature) associated with the occult. Judging by his last name—**_KIM_**—Chanyeol assumed he was of the witchy sorts, though he couldn’t be for sure. Male born witches weren’t common as far as he knew.

Chanyeol had spent years ignoring the Pernat World, and he didn’t want anything to do with anyone who could possibly challenge that.

Then Jongin fell from the sky, and Chanyeol was _screwed._

When Sehun first introduced the two of them that sweltering day in the park, it took everything in Chanyeol not to walk the opposite direction as soon as he felt Jongin wasn’t as average-looking as he appeared. Instantly, he could _sense_ that there was something off about Jongin, and that feeling solidified itself the moment they shook hands. 

He was a Pernat, for sure. One hundred percent, Chanyeol had never been more certain in his life. He wasn’t all that in tune with his heightened abilities, but there were instances where he could utilize them almost instinctively. Meeting Jongin had been one of them. 

Once his mind detected a tiny prick of intrusion, a telltale sign of a Pernat exerting their abilities, Chanyeol resolved himself not to get too close. This meant shutting him down before he could attempt to initiate a conversation and ultimately keeping his distance from his soon-to-be roommate as much as possible.

His priorities were getting a clear grasp of what kind of Pernat Jongin was while also giving a negative impression of himself as to warn him off. Until he figured out the extent of Jongin’s abilities, he couldn’t rest comfortably. 

It didn’t help that Jongin had attempted to influence his mind right off the bat. Was it intentional? As the day proceeded, Jongin’s breaches had never been more than a gentle, faint touch. So, delicate were they that Chanyeol felt them disperse on contact. 

This either meant one of two things. Either Jongin was trying to go undetected _or_ he simply wasn’t aware of his abilities.

If that was the case, it raised even more questions. _And concerns._

Was he _aware_ of it? His abilities? His special blood? If he was continuously using his powers subconsciously, just how much had he influenced Sehun?

From what Chanyeol could tell, they were bizarrely attached at the hip for _just best friends_, let alone two people who hadn’t known each other relatively that long. 

Humans were terribly susceptible to certain Pernat’s abilities; they were literally the weakest sentient life in the food chain in terms of physical being and raw power. The only reason for humans’ current existence was overpopulation, imagination, and religion. The power the unknown held.

If Chanyeol hadn’t already agreed to Sehun’s request to be their roommate, then that rustic diner would’ve been the last time he laid eyes on Jongin.

Now, look at him.

Chanyeol could see Jongin with his fucking eyes closed.

_Dammit._

If only he could go back a day and re-do that conversation. Maybe if he was aware of what was to come, he wouldn’t have said the things he had said, and foolishly sealed his fate.

But it was too late. He could never go back. No, not after this.

Nothing would ever be the same again.

And it was _all_ Kim Jongin’s fault.

## ***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asdjadkas so, this author's note will be ridiculously MASSIVE just warning you!
> 
> but so what had happened was i ended up writing chapters 3 AND 4 after being stuck for a hot minute, but then i couldn't figure out why i didn't want to post until i realized!!!! i totally hated the way i characterized Chanyeol and i was rushing the exposition--presenting the information in such weird ways so once i figured that all out (i had SEVERAL epiphanies, it was wonderful) i, of course, decided that i had to push back what i ALREADY wrote to later chapters and write up a NEW chapter three for you guys :) 
> 
> that being said, i now have to also write up a NEW chapter FOUR as well... but it's fun bc i get to explore Chanyeol more :) Speaking of which, what did you guys think of the perspective switch and Chanyeol's newly revealed character? please leave a comment, if i overthink and stress about it, then you might not see me for two months bc i'd call myself having to re-write everything i have so far lmaoo (critical comments are just as welcomed as nice ones!)
> 
> um but besides that, i can assure you that the drafting time for the next chapter won't be as long! i literally have chapter 5 and 6 ready like i said (and it's exactly what you all signed up for!!! i hope.) the good thing about me taking forever with this chapter is that i figured out what i want to do and sorted out all the kinks BEFORE i got thousands of words in. but yeah, I just have to finish bridging and i'll be good! (chap 4 will probably be as long as jongin's chap 2). 
> 
> ANYWAYS, if you stuck around to read this chaotic endnote, you're an absolute gem! (and you might as well leave a comment! lmao) bye, thanks, it's literally 2am and i have class + hw + a speech due, but the responsible SUHOcampaign wanted to update for YOU! haha love you all! <3 take care, ciao!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They weren’t friends, and he didn’t plan on that changing anytime soon. Maybe it was cruel of him. Or maybe, he was just following his moral code! The “W” Code!
> 
> No werewolves.
> 
> No witches.
> 
> No weirdness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) lowkey this should've been out sooner lmao but hi, welcome back!

Although Chanyeol would never openly admit it, watching Sehun pull away from the curb the next day was just as hard for him as it was for Jongin. Sehun must have packed Chanyeol’s good mood along with him because it shrunk in tangent with his retreating car in the distance. 

Damn, was he really stuck with Jongin? For a whole week? What a drag.

While his reasoning may have differed from Jongin’s—unlike  _ him _ , Chanyeol wasn’t co-dependent on Sehun—at the end of the day, they basically sang the same tune. Unless Sehun was there, neither of the two wanted anything to do with the other.

Some roommates they were, huh?

Don’t get the wrong idea, it wasn’t like Chanyeol  _ hated _ Jongin or anything crazy like that. They weren’t pulling punches constantly or baring teeth. No, nothing  _ effortful _ . That would mean there was energy invested—and negative or not—Chanyeol didn’t want  _ any _ energy invested in Kim Jongin.

The feeling Chanyeol had towards  _ Sehun’s roommate _ —and dared he say it was quite mutual—was one of disinterest _ .  _ Not dislike.  _ Disinterest _ .

It was  _ neutral _ . 

Chanyeol could argue that this shared impartiality towards each other, besides their status as Sehun’s roommates, was the  _ only thing  _ they had in common.

Well… there was that _other_ _thing_… but Chanyeol refused to be the first one to openly acknowledge it. In fact, that_ whole thing_ was the entire cause for Chanyeol’s lack of enthusiasm in the first place!

Hence, why Chanyeol intercepted Jongin attempt to strike up a conversation on the curb. They weren’t  _ friends,  _ and he didn’t plan on that changing anytime soon. Maybe it was cruel of him. Or maybe, he was just following his moral code! The “W” Code!

_ No  _ ** _w_ ** _ erewolves. _

_ No  _ ** _w_ ** _ itches. _

_ No  _ ** _weirdness_ ** _ . _

(The third rule ensured that the rest of the Pernat community was included.)

When Chanyeol left home, it wasn’t because his mother hated who he inevitably would always be: man  _ and beast. _

He left because he hated that he couldn’t _choose _for himself. Unlike the humans he grew up alongside—he wasn’t allowed to decide his future like they could. “What are you going to be when you grow up?” wasn’t a question he got to think, stress, or dream about. Since birth, his fate was predetermined.

He left because _that_ _sucked_, and that wasn’t fair. Why _couldn’t_ he live his life like he wanted to?

He left to find that answer—and to forget what he’d been spoon-fed his entire life to believe.

His heritage didn't define him. 

He was more than his DNA. 

He was.

Though, no matter what he said to convince himself that he was no different from the humans he surrounded himself with, so long as Jongin was around, it was nothing more than a naïve fantasy.

Jongin took away his  _ choice _ to be free of his past.

Who could blame Chanyeol for not wanting anything to do with him.

From the beginning, Jongin was trouble.

Chanyeol should’ve just stayed away.

His week would have been so much better if he had.

##  *******

Chanyeol hated Mondays.

But most of all, he hated his boss, _Mr._ _Rudeass_. Every cubicle trembled as the barrel-built man lumbered through the room, coffee and briefcase in hand. He bumped into Chanyeol’s desk and cursed as the brown drink stained the divider’s walls. Instead of an apology, he said, “Park. Office. Now,” before retreating to his lair.

The typing and aimless chatter ceased as Chanyeol stood up. He was tall enough to see over the cubicles that everyone’s heads had shifted toward their boss’ office.

Chanyeol tapped the frame of the door with a knuckle before he stepped inside. “You wanted to see me.”

“Shut the door. Sit.”

Chanyeol did.

A lot could be said about Mr. Rudeass by how he maintained his desk space. It was perfect geometry, not a paper or pen out of place. Even the placement of the chairs was calculated with two premeditated feet of space separating them from the desk. Normally, Chanyeol, despite his big stature, would squeeze in between as to not disturb the immaculate design. Today, however, he pulled the chair out far enough so that his legs would be comfortable.

“Sir.”

Mr. Rudeass shifted his typing to one hand while the other rummaged through a drawer. Without once glancing away from his screen, he withdrew a manila folder and slapped it down. He flicked it open and stabbed the first document. It was decorated with various colored charts and data collected.

“What is this?”

Chanyeol extended his neck. “A report. Sir.”

“Look at it again, and tell me what you see.” With his sharp finger, Mr. Rudeass slid the folder forward. “Look closely.”

Well, it  _ was _ a report, but upon closer inspection, the data organized looked awfully familiar. “It’s… my report, sir.”

“Bingo.” Mr. Rudeass stabbed his keyboard in emphasis and looked at him for the first time since Chanyeol had stepped into the dull-walled room. “Is that all you see?”

Chanyeol skimmed through the page. Was there a typo? Something misspelled?

Mr. Rudeass chuckled. “I’ll tell you since you seem to lack the ability to figure it out yourself. This is a report for  _ last week _ with  _ last month’s _ data.”

Oopsies. Looking at it again, it was obvious how extremely unlikely it was for a weekly report to have such high numbers. He screwed up. Big time.

“Oh, but that’s not the issue here because mistakes happen. Mistakes can be corrected,” Mr. Rudeass said, grinning under furrowed brows. “The problem is that it  _ wasn’t  _ corrected. Because of  _ you _ , and your negligent supervisor, your entire department submitted results that made  _ no goddamn sense  _ in a report that was emailed out to  _ every _ investor that attended the conference Friday.”

“I apologize for my—”

“Save your lousy apology, Park. This isn’t’ the schoolyard playground. This is the _ real world  _ where  _ money  _ does all the talking. You apologize by repairing the relationships you’ve damaged due to your carelessness.”

Mr. Rudeass dropped a bulky binder on the desk that read directory and thumbed through it. It was at least fifty pages deep, with over dozens of contact info front to back on each page.

“Your supervisor has been on the phone with investors all morning trying to save his ass. What have you been doing?”

Chanyeol frowned. He wasn’t skipping rocks and picking daisies over the last three hours.

“I’ve been working, sir. I hadn’t been made aware of the situation.”

“And why do you think that is,  _ Park? _ ”

That was a good question. Why hadn’t Supervisor Shim told him about his mistake. He shouldn’t be cleaning up Chanyeol’s mess by himself. Besides, two bodies would speed up the process tremendously.

“No answer?” Mr. Rudeass leaned back in his chair. “I’ll tell you why.”

The pause afterward was more awkward than climatic, and Chanyeol ended it before it went on any longer. “Sir?”

“It’s because I said to him ‘ _ look _ , someone has to take the fall for this. I’ve got to give the board someone to blame.’ And so, I told Supervisor Shim to choose. Your ineptitude or his oversight.” Chanyeol’s grip on his chair tightened as Mr. Rudeass’ smile did the same. “You can imagine what a man of his salary decided.”

“So?” Chanyeol cocked a brow. If this was heading where he thought it was, he wasn’t going to give  _ this prick _ the satisfaction of an emotional reaction.

Mr. Rudeass’ eye twitched and he leaned forward, snarling, “ _ So _ , it means the reports we let you work on this morning was just to ease your team’s workload this week since your absence will  _ sorely  _ be missed.”

“That’s fair,” Chanyeol said, thoughtfully, as he stood up. He would still be paid--and that’s all that mattered. He was already moving towards the door when Mr. Rudeass called after him.

“I didn’t say I was  _ finished _ with you, Park.”

Chanyeol cracked the door as he said: “You won’t be waste anymore of my time.”

Then he closed it behind himself, and the abrupt silence of the office room greeted him. He read the faces of his co-workers in an instant and saw one thing:  _ guilt. _

So, they knew. 

They  _ knew _ .

Screw them, too, then.

The only movement in the stiff room was from Chanyeol as he gathered his belongings from the desk. Most of the items he grabbed—a fancy pencil, a favorite eraser, a cat-shaped magnet—could fit in his pocket. In the almost six months since he’s worked there, this was the extent of his attachment to his job. If that wasn’t the biggest testament to how he felt about his employment, then he didn’t know what was.

On his grand exit, he looked everyone in the eyes and said nothing.

He didn’t have to.

_ He _ was free.

##  *******

When Chanyeol wasn’t in the mood to escape to the gym, he escaped to another world in the form of video games. But with Sehun absent, he couldn’t bring himself to finish the game they had promised to complete together by himself. That left him one choice, the MMO he only resorted to playing when he was going through rough times. 

_ Worlds of EXO. _

The game had saved him during his turbulent teenage years. The last time he had played it was sometime back during the spring—after he had agreed to be Sehun’s roommate.

_ Huh.  _ There was something interesting about that, but Chanyeol couldn’t place his finger on what exactly it was. Weird.

As soon as Chanyeol loaded up his original Warrior class character, his guild  _ Sun Cage _ swarmed him with greeting messages, though a few in particular stood out.

[Maelstrom] DAD FINALLY CAME HOME!!

[HOTTIE21] welcome back cutie!!!

[BlueKick4] The WOEXO LEGEND HIMSELF! Welcome back @BeastLoey.

[BeastLoey] hi guys :)

Maelstrom and HOTNESS21 were the OGs. Chanyeol met them within his first week of the game, which was around ten years ago. He was 15 then and new to PC games overall. They—veteran players of two weeks and five days, respectively, took him under their wing. BlueKick4 was picked up about a month later and although he logged in less frequently, he spent more money on the game then the three of them combined. 

Together, they formed Sun Cage, and at one point, had been one of the game’s top guilds. Then, life got in the way, as life usually does, and they drifted. 

It was crazy to think about how much time had passed since then, and how much he himself had changed as well.

It was also incredible that a game released so long could stand the test of time. The graphics were cleaner than he remembered. They didn’t make quality games like they used to anymore.

[Maelstrom] U NEVER CALLED!!! I KEPT TELLING ALL THE KIDS IN SCHOOL YOU WOULD BE BACK FOR MY BIRTHDAY BUT WHEN YOU NEVER SHOWED, THEY MADE FUN OF ME!!!

Chanyeol laughed. Maelstrom was only a year younger than him, but the “dad” joke hadn’t died ever since Chanyeol mistyped his age as 46 instead of 16.

[BeastLoey] sorry, son

[BeastLoey] tell them i’m here now

[Maelstrom] I WILL!!

Every relationship formed in the digital world was one that existed under a cloud of uncertainty. Because one day, it could just up and cease to exist with little to no clue or explanation for why. It wasn’t all that uncommon for players who’ve been active everyday for months to drop off the face of the earth, never to be seen or heard from again. Unless players grew close and felt comfortable enough to share their personal information, there was always a shroud of mystery about the wellbeing of a player that disappeared without a trace.

It was just accepted that people came and went.

Occasionally, people—like Chanyeol—returned. The thing about an MMO is that nine times out of ten, when a person returned, it wasn’t for the entertainment the game provided, it was for the relationships they hadn’t forgotten about.

These were people Chanyeol could never forget about. Without even knowing, they helped him during the darkest periods of his life. They were the closest thing to a family he’s ever known.

[BlueKick4] Anyways, @BeastLoey, long time-no see, bud! Where ya been?

[BeastLoey] after i graduated uni, i moved and got new roommates, found a shitty job

[HOTTIE21] oh that sucks, u should quit if u don’t like it.

[HOTTIE21] ur still young, don’t let a bad company tie u down.

[BlueKick4] Yeah, tell your job to kiss your @$$.

[BeastLoey] got fired today :)

[BeastLoey] so… no need i guess haha

[MAELSTROM] WHAT???

[BlueKick4] R.I.P.

[HOTTIE21] aww, will you be alright?

[BeastLoey] yup, i’m really good about saving so i’ll be good for a few months at least

[HOTTIE21] oh thank god, i know that’s an unfortunate predicament for some, just wanted to make sure <3

[BeastLoey] thank you hottie :)

[BeastLoey] i already have an interview set up for tomorrow anyway, i’ll be okay

[BlueKick4] My man! I was gonna say come work for me, but you already got your bases covered. I respect that.

[Maelstrom] What do you even do @BlueKick4??? We all know you’re like filthy rich dude.

[BlueKick4] Not really. I could do better.

[Maelstrom] You say as you PURCHASE THE LATEST LEGENDARY GEAR!

[Maelstrom] DUDE, YOUR SICK!

[BlueKick4] You’re*

[Maelstrom] -_-

Damn, Chanyeol really missed these people. It was nice knowing some things would never change.

[BeastLoey] you guys up for a quest? i’m a bit rusty so, let’s take it easy

[HOTTIE21] sure thing, what do you have in mind?

[BlueKick4] No. We’re sticking with our normal difficulty. No kiddy walks.

[Maelstrom] I AGREE!

[BeastLoey] haha ok ok, let’s do it then

WOEXO was as immersive as it had always been. It seemed slaying fantasy monsters could never get old.

BlueKick4 lead the group into a snake-infested cave. As a Samurai class, he suited the role of Vanguard well and cleared most of the weaker leveled monsters in one fell swoop. 

HOTTIE21, who normally, provided battle support as a Cleric was now a Valkyrie, one of the game’s most difficult classes to obtain. Her alicorn mount allowed her to finish off BlueKick4’s weakened monsters swiftly and get out of dodge before the creatures could retaliate. 

Maelstrom’s once destructive battle mage now traded out immense strength for a more well-rounded skill set. Chanyeol found it odd to request healing and support from him, but he was just as passionate about his role as he’d been for others. 

The three’s synchronicity was fluid. Chanyeol had a hard time blending in with their formations, but their teamwork improved the deeper they traveled into the Serpent King’s lair.

[BlueKick4] We’re approaching the Boss.

[BlueKick4] @HOTTIE21, you’ll take point and using your mobility, serve as a distraction.

[HOTTIE21] gotcha

[BlueKick4] @BeastLoey, We’ll be on offense the entire time. Watch out for the poison attacks. Our attacks lose 50% power if we’re poisoned.

[BeastLoey] i remember, yup.

[Maelstrom] HE’S NOT A NOOB, @BlueKick4! HE PROBABLY KNOWS MORE ABOUT THIS GAME THEN YOU

Chanyeol smiled. “Thank you, Maelstrom.”

[BlueKick4] Sorry, @BeastLoey. Habit.

[BeastLoey] a refresher never hurts :)

[BlueKick4] And @Maelstrom, just don’t die this time.

[Maelstrom] HEY! YOU GUYS LET ME GET DOUBLE TEAMED LAST TIME! DON’T BLAME ME!!!

[BlueKick4] WOEXO-SC! Let’s move out!

The raid was successful, though nothing went as planned. The Serpent King ignored the agro mechanic and focused on Maelstrom instead of HOTTIE21. No matter where Maelstrom ran, the Serpent King followed. Chanyeol figured it the monster was targeting him based on the amount of Magic Power he possessed. When he depleted his MP, the monster finally focused on HOTTIE21 who had the second highest MP. Thanks to this, they were able to return to their original strategy and take the Serpent King’s head.

[Maelstrom] TOLD YOU! DAD STILL HAS IT!

[HOTTIE21] sweet job beast, we definitely would’ve lost that without you!

[BeastLoey] it was a team effort, guys. thanks tho :)

[BlueKick4] Yeah, but it was a team victory because of YOU, @BeastLoey! You were brilliant.

[BlueKick4] You should take the bulk of the award. As a welcome back, gift.

[HOTTIE21] aww, i agree! you totally deserve it beast!

[BeastLoey] thanks, guys. i’m feeling the love :)

[Maelstrom] I’M GONNA CRY

[Maelstrom] I MISSED PLAYING WITH YOU @BeastLoey!

[Maelstrom] HOW LONG ARE YOU GONNA BE ACTIVE THIS TIME??

Chanyeol began to type, ‘All this week’ when there was movement in his periphery.

Why was  _ he  _ back already?

Chanyeol checked the time.

Damn, that was why.

Four hours.

That’s how long he had been playing WOEXO. _ _

Truly addicting.

Jongin stood awkwardly by his and Sehun’s couch, gulping his water loudly.

Chanyeol waited for him to state what he wanted, so he could leave Chanyeol alone.

Jongin hurried to swallow his water, and then he asked, “What are you playing?”

Chanyeol, sensing an olive branch, nearly told him—but then he felt the telltale sign of Jongin trying to get into his mind, and was reminded of the “W” Code. There could be no exceptions.

Chanyeol kept his expression neutral and returned to the screen. There had been several messages while he went idle.

[Maelstrom] HELLO???

[Maelstrom] DID YOU JUST GHOST ME?

[Maelstrom] MOOOM, DAD JUST LEFT ME AGAAIN

[HOTTIE21] hold on, give him a few, he’s probably afk

[BlueKick4] @Maelstrom, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should talk more about your dependency issues.

[Maelstrom] DON’T START BULLYING ME AGAIN!

[BeastLoey] sorry, i’m back. my roommate came home…

[Maelstrom] DAD!

[HOTTIE21] is everything alright?

[BeastLoey] yeah, he’s just…

A headache. Chanyeol could feel one coming on.

[BeastLoey] it’s hard to explain

[BlueKick4] Do you guys get along?

[Maelstrom] IF HE’S MESSING WITH YOU, TELL HIM I’LL KICK HIS @$$!

[BeastLoey] we don’t talk. we have a third roommate who’s a mutual friend.

[BeastLoey] he’s gone for the week, so i’m stuck here with him

[HOTTIE21] aww, that sucks, no buffer or middleman huh?

“Hello? I asked you a question, like twice, now,” Jongin snapped.

“I only heard it once, Chanyeol retorted.

[BeastLoey] *sigh* i wish.

[Maelstrom] I’M SERIOUS, DAD! I’LL HANDLE HIM!

“ _ Once _ should have been enough? Are you dense?”

[Maelstrom] JUST SAY THE WORD, AND I WILL!!

Chanyeol considered it.

[BeastLoey] nah haha won’t be necessary, but thanks

[BlueKick4] @Maelstrom, what are you going to do anyway? Challenge him to PvP?

[Maelstrom] IF I HAVE TO.

[BeastLoey] sorry we’re just loitering in-game here

[BeastLoey] i’m waiting for him to leave me alone but he’s standing here

[HOTTIE21] like a hover mom?

[BeastLoey] like a bully after school

[Maelstrom] I’M SERIOUS, DAD! I CAN PVP ON OR OFFLINE, BET!!

[HOTTIE21] if he’s trying to bait you into confrontation, don’t fall for it

[BlueKick4] Agreed. Try to keep your cool, @BeastLoey.

[BeastLoey] yeah, it’s weirder than anything else

“Are you not going to answer the question, then?”

[BeastLoey] he’s sort of childish. gets stir-crazy without attention.

[HOTTIE21] oh, the worst.

[HOTTIE21] is he a narcissist?

Jongin inhaled deeply. “What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doing?” All in one breath.

Chanyeol’s vision began to blur at the edges and the throbbing beyond his temples increased. He squinted and leaned forward until the messages in the text box weren’t blurring anymore. Jongin moved nearer.

[BeastLoey] definitely not, but he makes you wonder

His vision swam again, and Chanyeol typed out that he’d get back on later when he could. His head was killing him, and Jongin wasn’t helping by dragging his words. Why was he so immature!

Chanyeol slammed his laptop shut and stood up faster than he should’ve. The vertigo had the room spinning. If he wasn’t certain he was centered between the couch, the coffee table, and Jongin, he might have thought he was falling.

“Why are you being so annoying?” Chanyeol focused on the color in Jongin’s eyes until the room stopped swaying.

Jongin tilted his head back and moaned as he slurped his water like a damn dog. His Adam’s apple bobbed and a driblet of water dashed down his jawline, hanging on perilously before a gulping movement made it fall. It was…

Chanyeol swallowed. No… what was he thinking? Jongin was purposely being irritable, and he was _enjoying _it.

One flick of his wrist and that water would be all over him. Bet he wouldn’t be smiling then.

Chanyeol weighed his options. Then realized it wasn’t  _ him _ who’s voice he was hearing in his mind.

Jongin opened his eyes ridiculously slow as if he was regaining consciousness. Realizing how dramatic he was helped sober him up. How was he twenty-four?

“Why aren’t you answering my question?” Jongin asked with a slight pout, feigning innocence. The turnaround was incredulous or would have been had not Chanyeol witnessed the abrupt switch used on Sehun plenty of times before. Jongin wasn’t fooling anyone with his antics.

“Why do you even care?” Chanyeol asked, “You don’t like games.

“I’m curious,” Jongin said with the certainty of a liar.

“Go be curious somewhere else.” Chanyeol intended that to be the end of his conversation. He was already breaking the “W” Code just by  _ socializing _ with Jongin. He tried stepping around, but Jongin blocked his path. His routes of escape were limited.

“Just tell me the name, and I’ll go away,” Jongin insisted, blinking rapidly, as if something had gotten into his eye.

“Move.” Chanyeol didn’t negotiate with terrorists _ . _

Jongin moved… only to set his glass down. Then he was back in Chanyeol’s face with a shit-eating grin. “I moved.”

Real mature. Chanyeol resisted the urge to shove him away like the featherweight he was and focused on his breathing.

In. He wasn’t going to fight Sehun’s best friend.

And out. He wasn’t going to end up in jail.

“Why’re you so—” Chanyeol sighed. There was no point in trying to resolve anything with a person who had the mentality and maturity of a five-year-old.

He would follow the five second rule, thne.

Chanyeol grabbed Jongin by his tiny waist— _ One— _ and lifted— _ Two.  _ Jongin screamed— _ Three— _ as Chanyeol relocated him a few feet— _ Four— _ to the side. He let go— _ Five. _

A featherweight, just like he thought. He hadn’t even broken a sweat. Chanyeol grabbed his laptop and made his quick getaway to his room while Jongin flustered and fumbled over his worlds.

Door shut,  _ and locked _ , Chanyeol sat at his desk and opened up his computer again. His friends in WOEXO were in the tavern, waiting for him.

Three quick knocks came from his door. “Are we still doing movie night?” Jongin yelled.

“Go away!” Chanyeol shook his head as he logged back in.

He just didn’t give up, did he?

[Maelstrom] DAD RETURNED!

[HOTTIE21] everything ok? ur last message seemed really rushed

[BeastLoey] yeah, my roommate was just being annoying lol

[HOTTIE21] over?

[Maelstrom] THE WORD, BEAST. SAY THE WORD!

[BeastLoey] it’s fine, i don’t want to think about him

[BeastLoey] he’s headache inducing

[BlueKick4] Years ago, my roommate and I used to hate each other, too.

[BeastLoey] oh, but i don’t hate him

He didn’t know why he was clarifying this to people he’d never met before, but he was.

[HOTTIE21] hate is a strong word!

“I agree,” Chanyeol mumbled. 

[Maelstrom] NO OFFENSE, BLUE, BUTTTTT,

[Maelstrom] I FEEL LIKE YOU CAN BE EASY TO HATE SO….

[BlueKick4] Fair.

[HOTTIE21] what happened tho? between u and ur roomie?

[BlueKick4] We got married.

Chanyeol stopped what he was typing mid-sentence.

[Maelstrom] WHAT????????

[HOTTIE21] oh.

[Maelstrom] YOU??? MARRIED???

Chanyeol was at a blank of what to say. This was a shock to them all. BlueKick4 had always been secretive about certain personal details. Ten years of this game clearly hadn’t changed that, so it always came as a shock whenever he revealed something new about himself. 

[Maelstrom] HOW OLD ARE YOU AGAIN, BLUE???

[BlueKick4] I don’t like to give out my age. Sorry.

[HOTTIE21] that’s fine, we respect that

[HOTTIE21] that’s fine

[HOTTIE21] can i ask one thing? for clarity’s sake?

[BlueKick4] Always ask.

[HOTTIE21] were you roommates who hated each other…

[HOTTIE21] before or after marriage?

BlueKick4 didn’t respond for about a minute or two.

[BlueKick4] I was so confused for a second.

[BlueKick4] I meant to say we’re happily married.

[HOTTIE21] omg that’s so cute!!

[BlueKick4] We only became roommates because my original roommate got an internship and had to sublet. He was desperate and I was under the impression that horrible roommates didn’t exist.

[BlueKick4] We were both pretty dominant people so we clashed a lot.

[Maelstrom] WAIT WAIT WAIT 

[Maelstrom] HOLD ON NOW

[BlueKick4] What is it?

[Maelstrom] ARE YOU GAY TOO??? DUDE!!!

Chanyeol nearly fell out of his chair.

[HOTTIE21] omg @Maelstrom!

[BlueKick4] I’m bi, actually, but yeah, so?

[Maelstrom] SO YOU MEAN TO TELL ME

[Maelstrom] YOUR FILTHY RICH?

[BlueKick4] You’re*

[Maelstrom] MARRIED??

[Maelstrom] AND BI???

[Maelstrom] WHAT KIND OF FREAKISH LUCKY SPIN IS THAT COMBO?

[HOTTIE21] you’re the complete package, @BlueKick4! Your husband is so lucky.

[BlueKick4] I could do better.

[BlueKick4] And he is. I make sure he doesn’t forget.

[Maelstrom] D-D-DAD?

[Maelstrom] ARE YOU HERE RIGHT NOW??

[Maelstrom] HOW COME YOU WEREN’T BORN RICH??

[HOTTIE21] that’s incredibly insensitive

[BeastLoey] how come you haven’t become a doctor so i could retire already?

[Maelstrom] I’M STILL YOUNG! 

[Maelstrom] JUST GIVE ME SOME TIME DAD PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME

[HOTTIE21] hey blue, how did you and roommate overcome your differences?

[BlueKick4] Where do I start? 

[BlueKick4] Well, for one, we….

[BlueKick4] Sorry, there are kids here. @Maelstrom, can you log out for a minute?

[Maelstrom] HEY I’M 24, YOU @$$!

[HOTTIE21] yey, beast

[heastLoey] yeah?

[HOTTIE21] invite us to the wedding, alright?

Chanyeol sent  _ Hell No _ , but the game blocked his message.

[Maelstorm] ALSKNDALSKDNALSNDA

[Maelstorm] DAD

[Maelstrom] YOU CAN’T CHEAT ON MOM!

[HOTTIE21] the roomie’s the exception!

[BlueKick4] I would honestly fly halfway across the world to show up for that.

[Maelstrom] YEAH AND BUY US ALL TICKETS

[BeastLoey] hahaha

[BeastLoey] so funny guys

[BeastLoey] are we just going to chat all day? let’s do another quest

[BlueKick4] We could chat all day. It’s been a while.

[Maelstrom] I AGREE!

[Maelstrom] WE MISSED YOU DAD!

[HOTTIE21] aww, i think beast is shy

[BeastLoey] A quest, or I’m logging out.

[BlueKick4] Typing like me now, uh-oh.

[Maelstrom] NOO

[Maelstrom] OKAY

[Maelstrom] QUEST TIME!

[HOTTIE21] <3 whatever beast wants

Chanyeol slouched in his seat.

Goddammit _ ,  _ he felt the telltale signs of another headache coming on.

Thanks a lot, fake family.

##  *******

Chanyeol awoke in a snow-covered forest with barren trees looming above, dark snowflakes falling from above. He laid on a dirt bed, the frozen earth melted around him. Recognizing himself as nude, he stood up and searched for his clothes. He would freeze to death without them.

It became one of those dreams where Chanyeol’s awareness came to him, and he was in control of his senses.

A growl caught his attention, and he whirled around in the direction it came from. There in the clearing was a monstrous black wolf with blood red eyes. Its head hung low, there was a string of slobber connecting its sharp fangs the ground to.

“You’re not real!” Chanyeol called before the biting wind stole his voice.

The wolf scratched the ground over and over and over and behind it, its bushy tail waggled back and forth like a pendulum.

Chanyeol took a step back and stepped into a puddle of gooey liquid. It wasn’t water. Water wasn’t red and didn’t cling to his skin like glue. 

This was blood. But it wasn’t blood because it wasn’t real. None of this was real. It was just a dream.

His brain was convinced otherwise.

He lifted his foot out of the murkiness slowly and he felt the liquid pull at his leg hairs as it ran down. This  _ felt  _ real. Too real.

Suddenly, the icy wind ceased, and the sound of the wolf sniffing echoed throughout the frigid air. It snarled and glared. Then, it burst forward, tearing up the snow and dirt in its charge. 

Chanyeol was already running. 

The wolf thundered through the red puddle, coating its dark fur red.

In the world of white, the only contrast was the red on Chanyeol’s leg and the wolf after him.

It chased him to the edge of a raging river slushing down chunks of ice.

Chanyeol teetered on the edge, but when he glanced over his shoulder, the wolf was alright right there. So close. It leapt, sinking its teeth into the flesh of Chanyeol’s arm and fire burned where it made contact. And then, his entire body  _ burned _ as he plunged straight into the freezing waters. The wolf yelped as it crashed against a rock. The current continued to sweep Chanyeol away.

His eyes were clenched shut and his nose pinched. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.

Chanyeol awoke gasping for air and grasping his chest so tightly his nails were digging into his skin.

His alarm clock screeched and the fist Chanyeol brought down on it was fierce and swift. Metal screws and plastic parts flung across the bouncing somewhere in the dark room.

What the...

Chanyeol relaxed his hand and pressed his fingers together. His nails dug into his thumb sharper than they should have considered he liked to keep them well trimmed.

No...

Chanyeol sat up slowly. He ran his hands over the front of his shirt and found holes where there shouldn’t have been.

Oh, no...

Chanyeol peeled away from his damp sheets in a hurry. A piece of the clock stabbed his foot, frying every nerve all the way up to his brain. He swore, and then froze. He ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth and felt himself get light-headed.

This couldn’t… No, there was no way. This couldn’t be happening. No, not to him. No, not now.

He hobbled the rest of the way to his bathroom.

When he flicked on the bathroom light, he winced. But when his eyes finally adjusted, he gasped.

Instead, he did the manly thing and had a silent freak out.

His nails. 

_ Were sharp. _

His teeth.

_ Were Sharp. _

In the end, he couldn’t help it.

Sleeping neighbors be damned, he screamed.

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

##  *******

“You’re so full of shit. Do you even know what the fuck you’re talking about before you open your mouth to speak?”

It was a little over a quarter past nine by the time Chanyeol had gotten his uncle on the phone. Almost immediately after he had freaked out about his freakishly long nails and fangs, they had gone away. Chanyeol had no idea how that worked. In fact, the transition was so smooth he wasn’t sure if he imagined the whole incident. Until he stepped on another piece of the clock, and looked at his holey shirt, and saw the rips in his mattress. Yeah, the claws had been real.

The first thing he did was call Jungsoo.

Oh so shockingly, it took him to voicemail. Eight in the morning or not, weren’t supposed loved ones  _ supposed  _ to pick up during emergencies?

Chanyeol tried again after his shower.

And again, after he had gotten dressed for his interview.

He was in the kitchen rummaging through the fridge when his phone finally buzzed in his phone.

Naturally, he went zero to hundred, swears and all, when he answered.

Jungsoo yawned. “Good morning to you, too, Chanyeol.”

“I told you, and you didn’t believe me. And I  _ was right _ .”

“Right about what, Chanyeol?”

“Feeling  _ it. _ I… I transformed this morning.”

Jungsoo choked over his beverage then hissed. “ _ Completely?  _ Where at? Did anyone see? Did anyone get hurt?”

“Are you—I’m not a fucking murderer. I’m not my dad!”

“Get ahold of yourself, Chanyeol. I’m asking the standard questions I would ask anyone else.”

“It wasn’t even a complete transformation!”

Jungsoo swore, but Chanyeol heard the sigh of relief. “Then don’t say you  _ transformed _ ; are you nuts? Three missed calls from you, of course I would assume the worst.”

“ _ Of course? _ You never pick up your phone when I call if  _ she’s _ around. Don’t tell me you assume the worst every time.”

“Chanyeol, it’s too early for this. I don’t want to go to the clinic in a sour mood. That helps no one.”

“What about helping me?” Chanyeol growled. “Like you’re supposed to. Like you  _ said _ you would.”

Jungsoo clicked his tongue. “What exactly happened then, Chanyeol. Spit it out.”

_ Spit it out? _

Chanyeol huffed. “You know what? I don’t want to tell you anymore.”

“Chanyeol—”

“No, go. If you have more important business to attend to, don’t let me hold you.”

“Heavens sakes, Chanyeol. I’m already on the phone, what do you want?”

“Nothing! Nothing from you ever! Just go to work. I’ll stop fucking bothering you with my problems which you clearly know nothing about anyway. I’ll never call again.”

Chanyeol hung up and threw his phone in the freezer next to the waffles before he slammed the freezer door shut. The entire refrigerator shook in recoil.

Fuck, why was he so… coiled up? His entire body felt stiff—like glass. As if he made any sudden movements, he might completely shatter into a thousand pieces.

_There_, he could feel _it,_ _waiting_.

Waiting for the glass to splinter just enough so that  _ it  _ could burst free.

Chanyeol sensed movement in his periphery, and  _ he panicked _ . The glass cracked and the beast launched itself forward at full speed. It was going to break free.

It was Jongin who stood in Sehun’s doorway, and Chanyeol wanted to scream at him to run away, but there was no time.

No! Not him. Not him. Not him.

The beast smashed against the shields of his mind.

No! Not him! Not him! Not Jongin!

Chanyeol yanked the beast by its tail and flung it back into the recesses of his mind. Jongin collapsed against the doorway at the same time.

What the fuck was that?

Chanyeol hurried over to Jongin, who was doubled-over and breathing heavy like he’d just run a marathon.

“Hey.” 

Jongin startled, but Chanyeol stepped closer. Did he know now? What Chanyeol was? Chanyeol needed that answer more than anything else right now. If the cat was out of the bag, then there was no point in avoiding the conversation.

But as he noticed Jongin’s trembling body and the tiny beads of sweat gathered at his forehead, he realized adrenaline was still coursing through his veins. He could  _ smell the fear.  _ It was nauseating in a way that made Chanyeol’s stomach twist in guilt.

This was all his fault.

Chanyeol put his hand in the middle of Jongin’s back, ignoring the way he stiffened, and applied a gentle pressure.

“Are you okay?”

Jongin was a witch constantly trying to prick at his mind. Maybe he could pick up on Chanyeol’s mental commands if he let him.

Relax. 

Relax. 

Relax.

Sure enough, Jongin relaxed against Chanyeol’s hand. He hid his surprise. Did that really work?

“I’m fine,” Jongin said, attempting to sound less affected than he looked. He narrowed his eyes. “Are  _ you _ okay?”

Chanyeol wasn’t sure what exactly he was referring to. If Jongin was hinting at something “W” Code related, then he needed to be more forward. Or maybe he was referring to the phone call. Just how much of it had he heard? If Chanyeol had known Jongin was still in the house, he wouldn’t have taken the call in the kitchen in the first place.

“I’m fine,” Chanyeol said, but that answer felt cheap and empty. “I have an interview. I need the job.” That didn’t quite make sense put together, but he hoped Jongin would accept it regardless.

Jongin stared at him like he was solving a math problem on his forehead.

“Must be a really important interview,” Jongin said carefully, leaning against the doorframe. “I can give you some tips if you’d like.”

Chanyeol’s glaze flickered to his monkey-print PJs. Hilarious.

“I’ll think about it,” Chanyeol turning away. He wasn’t planning on striking up a conversation. What was Jongin doing here anyway? “Shouldn’t you be at school?” Chanyeol asked.

“What time is it?” Jongin asked meekly.

Chanyeol, mimicking Jongin’s childish behavior from the night before, made a whole show of checking his watch. “Nine,” he drawled, delightfully slow, “thirty-six.”

Jongin cursed and scrambled to his own room.

With his attention now diverted, Chanyeol let himself sink into a kitchen chair and sigh. He retreated into his mind to asses the damage.

So close. _It_ had been _so_ _close _to breaking free. Too close.

Jongin had been paralyzed down to his bodily functions, and it wasn’t an accident. Far from it. That beast inside had intended on feasting.  _ It _ was hungry. Chanyeol hated to think what would’ve happened had he not been able to intervene. Would he be conscious while  _ it _ took over control, stuck watching from the back seat while his body went on auto-pilot, helpless to stop whatever  _ it _ wanted, whatever  _ it _ craved?

Wild-haired Jongin sprang back into the living room, dressed in a tight pair of jeans and a wrinkled t-shirt. Chanyeol watched him struggle to take his massage table out of the closet. By the time he was done, he was out of breath for the second time that morning.

“Can you lock up?”

Chanyeol stared at him. Who did he look like? Eventually, he did stand up, though, and apparently that was all Jongin needed for confirmation before he took off. Chanyeol locked the door.

And then he unlocked it.

There was no way Jongin was  _ serious _ about rolling his heavy ass massage table halfway across town to get to his school. On a hot day like this? Jongin probably hadn’t even checked the weather. That wasn’t a fate Chanyeol would wish on anyone.

Against his better judgement, Chanyeol grabbed his keys and locked the door behind him.

He was only doing this to make up for almost harming him. That was it.

Jongin was still at the top of their building’s stairs contemplating his life decisions. Chanyeol didn’t blame him.

“Skipping?” he said, hoping to spook him.

Jongin reacted lamely, as in, and faced him with a serious expression. “Considering it.”

Chanyeol rolled his eyes as Jongin drifted off into thought, probably wondering what type of email he was going to send his professor. Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on the type of student—he wouldn’t have to type up anything. Chanyeol was here to save the day!

Chanyeol pushed Jongin’s hands away and grabbed the massage table himself. He carried it down the stairs with a comfortable ease he was pleased to discover. Running away to the gym truly had its benefits.

On the last step, Jongin thanked him. Then, like the dummy he was, he added, “But I’m going the opposite way,” as Chanyeol walked towards his black SUV. He threw the table in the trunk and got in.

Jongin walked up to  _ his _ window as he started the car. Chanyeol glanced over, regretting his decision the longer Jongin looked like a lost duck out of water. Please, could he take a hint?

Jongin’s hesitance followed him into the car. Why couldn’t he just act  _ normal _ ? Just yesterday, he was all up in Chnyeol’s face being annoying, and now, he was holding his breath. It made total sense _ . _

Just to be petty, Chanyeol put his arm on Jongin’s seat as he reversed, just to see how much more uncomfortable Jongin would get. Jongin ended up squished against the window. If his door were to open, he was gone.

They drove in silence mostly because Chanyeol didn’t want:

1) Jongin judging him off his music tastes

2) Jongin messing with his stations

3) Jongin wanting the aux

Traffic was light and they made it ten times faster than Jongin would have on foot.

Jongin swallowed his tongue thanking him and nearly fell out of the car. Chanyeol was out of the car before him, shutting the door or whatever he was stuttering. He pulled Jongin’s table from the trunk and decided he would even go the extra mile of carrying it up the stairs so that Jongin wouldn’t have to walk farther to use the ramp. Generous king, he knew.

Jongin joined him at the top of the stairs where they exchanged grip of the table’s handle. “Thank you,” he said, better articulated than he had before.

Sehun would be having a field day if he saw them now. Too bad it wasn’t permanent.

Chanyeol was on his way without a word.

“Good luck on your interview!” called Jongin. “If you can muster up a smile, I’m sure they’ll at least consider you.”

With his back still facing Jongin, Chanyeol smiled and flicked him off. With his other hand arching over his head, he then pointed to his watch.

Jongin’s “Oh, shit!” reached Chanyeol before he got back inside his car. That kid.

Chanyeol turned on the radio and drummed his along the steering wheel to a familiar song as he stepped on the gas a little.

His interview was back on the other side of town. Hopefully he would make it in time.

##  *******

Music soothes the savage beast. The person who coined that saying was actually a werewolf. Or, so Chanyeol had heard.

Chanyeol was finding  _ it _ preferred base drops and screechy choruses, but in an effort to preserve his hearing (and his sanity), he stuck with his trusty acoustic guitar.

No amount of time passed could diminish his playing skills, and he never forgot a song he learned how to play. Chanyeol was a man of many talents. 

After two ten-year-old pop songs he warmed up with, he went onto just strumming whatever sounded right. He would let the beast decide.

A knock came at his door, disrupting his vibe, and before he could even push the air out of his lungs in annoyance, his door flew open.

Chanyeol’s guitar slipped from his hands, and he barely managed to catch it before he lost a toe. “What are you—?” Chanyeol couldn’t find the words. He was just so…  _ shocked? _

Why the hell was Jongin in his room?

Jongin never once stepped inside his room. So, for him to have came in unannounced? It was jarring as hell. There was no way Jongin could have made a mistake either.

What the…? Chanyeol was having a hard time rationalizing what he was seeing.

“How’d the interview go?”

Chanyeol blinked.

“What— _ Get out?” _

“What?” Jongin responded, sounding genuinely confused.

Chanyeol had no clue why. Only  _ he _ was the one allowed to be confused. Jongin was encroaching on  _ his _ space. Jongin needed to go and be confused someplace else.

“Get out,” Chanyeol repeated.

Jongin laughed. “Are you going to make a big deal out of telling me this, too? I just want to know how it went.”

He would never know because it _never _happened! No employer would hire the interviewee who walked in late.

Chanyeol set his guitar down and stood, moving forward with the intent of  _ forcing _ him out of the room. Jongin must’ve caught on, because he stepped fully into the room before pressing himself flat against the door. Chanyeol stopped in front of him.

“So,” Jongin sang, smiling uneasily, “How’d it go?”

“Get out.”

“Just tell me how it went,” Jongin pleaded.

“Get. Out.”

Jongin crossed his arms. “I don’t like being yelled at.”

Chanyeol felt his eye twitch. “I didn’t yell.”

“That  _ is  _ your ‘yelling’,” Jongin punctuated. “You’re just wired differently.”

Chanyeol felt  _ it  _ stir and remembered his breathing exercises. No, he wasn’t going to let Jongin get him all worked up. If the beast got loose a third time, there was no telling if he would have the willpower to stop it. All day his body had struggled resisting the beast’s pull since his first waking breath. He had to be careful about this.

Jongin got under his skin because that’s just what he  _ did.  _ A reaction is what he wanted. Chanyeol wouldn’t give it to him.

After that, Chanyeol did what he did best when he felt suffocated. Pumped iron. Before he left, however, he told Jongin he didn’t want to see him when returned. He hoped the crybaby would finally take a hint and listen to him.

##  *******

Chanyeol injuring himself at the gym confirmed a suspicion that had been brewing within his mind for a while now. The universe was out to get him, and he was sure of it.

The whole thing was a set up.

As Chanyeol fumbled to unlock the door with one hand—the other held an ice pack to his aching back—it suddenly swung open. The last person he wanted to see him in his current state stood in front of him and apparently hadn’t gotten over his attitude from earlier. “You’re finally back, I see.”

Chanyeol moved forward without much momentum. “Jongin, please.” His back was already in pain; he didn’t need a headache forming, too.

“What happened?”

Chanyeol tried to ignore his apparent concern. They weren’t friends. They weren’t friends. They weren’t friends.

“I told you I didn’t want to see you when I get back.”

“Are you serious?” Snapped Jongin before he lowered his voice. “Did you hurt yourself.”

So, what if he did? They weren’t friends.

“Why do you care?”

Jongin hesitated before he answered. “Because you look like you’re in serious pain.”

“Captain Obvious.” Pain exploded in his back when he breathed too deeply. Fuck.

“Don’t be an ass. Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Chanyeol’s head throbbed. He would never.

“Are  _ you _ going to drive me there?”

Jongin cleared his throat. If Chanyeol didn’t know better, he would’ve almost thought Jongin was holding back laughter. “Back injuries can be severe if left untreated.”

“You’re a masseuse, not a doctor,” Chanyeol said as he reached his room. “Mind your business.”

Chanyeol hadn’t even made it towards his bed when he heard Jongin’s soft rasps on his door, and he was reminded of Jongin’s intrusion hours earlier. He should’ve locked his door, but he wasn’t quite in his right mind.

“Hey.” A pause. “If you need anything,” Another pause. “Just let me know, alright?”

Chanyeol eased himself on his bed gently. “Unless you can take my pain away, then shut up.”

Jongin never replied.

Until the next day when he barged in Chanyeol’s room unannounced  _ again _ . Surely, he wasn’t making a habit out of this.

He came with a proposition though, one Chanyeol found hard to resist. His pain had gotten so immense that he was actually considering going to the hospital.  _ It _ was holding him back. 

Whenever Chanyeol thought of having to step a foot inside one of those places, the beast grew antsy. With his weakened fortitude, the beast would no doubt take control over then. In that environment, Chanyeol refused to imagine the chaos.

He had no choice but to agree to Jongin’s massage. It seemed, as of late, that Jongin was constantly controlling his choices. This was why he followed the “W” Code.

And now, he was breaking it. 

Like an idiot.

The living room was transformed when Chanyeol came out of his room, the massage table already in the center. Red lights and weird scents were scattered about. Chanyeol felt set up.

“You better keep it appropriate,” was just about all Chanyeol could say as he held on to the remainder of his dignity. “No funny business, magic hands.”

That was a double entendre. Chanyeol hoped he caught both meanings.

“If anything hurts—_or if_ _anything feels good_—let me know,” Jongin teased, though it felt more like a warning than anything else. “We will begin shortly.”

Chanyeol took shallow breaths. He felt so damn vulnerable like this. “Don’t try me, Kim.”

In less than an hour, Chanyeol would learn the consequences of not following the “W” Code.

Because of Jongin, his life would change  _ forever. _

Their night was just beginning.

##  *******

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm feeling good! finally! we've made it through the set-up! yay! the weight that's been lifted off of my shoulders, you have no idea lmaoo~ with this update we're officially 25K deep! can you believe that? i can't lmfaoo i'm literally so happy rn! we are definitely in for the long haul! how exciting!! 
> 
> Commenters! I want to know! what were your thoughts on this chapter? or on the 25k you've read so far! reactions? predictions? fears? what do you think of Chanyeol? or his woexo friends lmaoo i want to know!
> 
> And lastly, before i go, i would like to thank everyone who's stuck with this story thus far. I want to thank everyone who's left a kudos, a comment or subscribed, and I want to thank everyone who's new and here for the first time! Welcome! I appreciate your presence! It really keeps me motivated!
> 
> P.S. my birthday is in two days! (Oct 14 hehe!) I'll try my best to get the next chapter out quickly! Can't wait to get the ball rolling!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something wasn’t right.
> 
> “Jongin.” His voice sounded alien to him, high-pitched and airy yet entirely like how he felt. Jongin’s voice drifted to him from somewhere in the distance.
> 
> “You good?”
> 
> No. He wasn’t good. He wasn’t good at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry, i can't be trusted omg lmfao
> 
> Update [11/2/2019]: Major Update. So, basically, it was brought to my attention that a certain event was a bit unclear, so I went ahead and added about 800 words (at the first POV switch) for clarification! I do recommend reading for more details!

“How does that feel?” asked Jongin, his firm hands gliding along the ridges of his spine.

Chanyeol wished for the life of him that he could lie and say the massage was horrible. That Jongin had damaged his back beyond repair and would be hearing from his lawyers soon.

But, he could say no such thing, not when the gears in his back were finally starting to spin again, albeit slowly.

Even his attempt at sarcasm got swept aside by the pent-up exhale Jongin’s nimble fingers pushed right out of him.

All he could do was admit defeat.

“Better.”

“Was that where most of the pain was coming from?”

Chanyeol breathed in deeply, stretching his body from the inside. Ten minutes ago, even doing something as simple as that would’ve been impossible. Jongin hadn't wasted any time fixing him up, having found the pinched bundle of nerves responsible for his immense pain right away. As soon as he began digging and grinding his fingers into that area of his back, Chanyeol’s brain had gone stupid numb.

He swore Jongin was purposely torturing him — the little sadist — trying to see how much he would squirm before he tapped out. Of course, Chanyeol held firm, a clenched jaw and manly grunts were the few signs of weakness he allowed himself to show. Thankfully, though, the pain gradually peppered off, and eventually, subsided. Shifting on the table slightly, Chanyeol could still feel the soreness of a pulled muscle or pinched nerve, but the initial needling pain never came.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol answered. “Think so.”

“Okay.”

Face squished into a cushion, Chanyeol’s vision was limited to Jongin’s white-socked feet and when they disappeared, he assumed that was the end of the massage. Short and sweet and straight to the point. Just like he’d expected. Just like he’d preferred. It _ was _kind of an anticlimactic finish, though.

“Might be cold at first,” preceded Jongin’s voice while the discomfort he warned about followed. Chanyeol hadn’t had a chance to mentally prep himself. He jolted when an icy liquid coated his neck. Seeping deep into his bones, it chilled his core and sent a shiver rippling through his body, raising bumps of skin until it reached his toes. They curled. “Told you,” Jongin chuckled.

At least _ one of them _ was enjoying this.

Sometime into the massage, the scent of lavender oil overpowered the sandalwood, and Chanyeol wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not. He couldn’t decide which smell was less obnoxious—and how befitting it was of Jongin to use them. His head felt light and tingly. Like, he wasn’t quite lying on a massage table getting rubbed down by the persistent Kim Jongin of all people. He was floating. And like, he wasn’t quite staring at a gray nylon carpet. It was a sea of gray stars, swimming and colliding together in big bursts that created more stars, and the process repeated itself.

Yeah, to say he was feeling strange was an understatement.

Chanyeol squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the faint throbbing behind his eyes. The lavender was flooding his brain with bundles of cotton, making it impossible to hang onto a rational thought. Plus, that damned sandalwood kept tickling his nose. With each sneeze, the table shook, the legs threatening to give out at any given moment.

The music Jongin put on sounded both faraway and near, like an echo bouncing from one end of the room to the other and passing through him in between. There, in the center of his body, vibrations gathered until a sizeable fizzling void formed. Chanyeol felt like he had swallowed a balloon, one that was now swelling bigger and bigger within his chest.

Something wasn’t right.

“Jongin.” His voice sounded alien to him, high-pitched and airy yet entirely like how he felt. Jongin’s voice drifted to him from somewhere in the distance.

“You good?”

No. He wasn’t _ good _. He wasn’t good at all. When he tried to speak, however, all that came out was a garbled moan.

“Good,” Jongin said. “Just relax and enjoy the massage. I’ll take care of you.”

An urge to protest fell to the unfamiliar sensations building within Chanyeol. The pocket within his chest pressed against his ribcage, constricting his heart and lungs.

“Chanyeol? Are you okay?” Jongin placed a hand on his back, and the balloon swelled more. What was he doing to him?

“I can’t breathe.”

“Huh? Are you allergic? Is it the oil? The incense? Chanyeol?”

No, he wasn’t allergic. It wasn’t any of those things! Jongin understood, right? It was _ him _ . Something _ he _ was doing to him.

“Chanyeol, hey—I need you to sit up.” Jongin shook his shoulder, and Chanyeol felt the spark of heat there, too.

“Stop,” Chanyeol barely managed to squeeze out. Jongin needed to stop. He needed to stop touching him, or else—Chanyeol’s chest was going to explode.

“Your body’s… You’re having a really weird reaction,” Jongin said, igniting the nerves under Chanyeol’s skin with more touches. “You have to at least sit up, Chanyeol. It’s harder to breathe when you’re lying on your stomach. Come on, please?” In his limited vision, he saw Jongin crouching in front of him. That he meant his face was level with Jongin’s. “Lift your head, Chanyeol. Open your eyes. Look at me.”

Chanyeol refused. “I don’t—” He spoke between quick, shallow breaths. “I don’t know what you did to me. What did you do? Stop—stop it.”

“Hey, I don’t know, either,” Jongin said softly, and Chanyeol felt him caress his hair, scrambling his thoughts on contact. “But you have to get up so we can figure it out, alright? Hey, look at me, Yeol. Okay? Look at me.”

Begrudgingly, Chanyeol lifted his head, and he blinked slowly until the stars and the fog cleared from his vision. As Jongin’s face came into focus, so did that one dominant emotion etched in his features: concern. And for the first time, Jongin’s eyes really stood out to him. Normally, they were so dark and plain, but now Chanyeol could see the light in them. Maybe that was what had done it.

The balloon inside of Chanyeol burst. His chest surged, opening up, and from it, erupting throughout his body, filling up his veins, was boiling liquid gold. It shot forward, flowing upon itself like a bridge until the space between them was no more. It bathed the tiny little seed that was Jongin’s core in its molten light and swept it up in a smooth current, flowing back home to Chanyeol’s own chest, where it would be better protected from now on. Where it was safer. Here, under his care, it would grow up to be big and strong.

“I’ll take care of you now.”

It was Chanyeol’s voice, but those weren’t his words, and it took Jongin’s scream for him to realize and snap out of it.

“What the _ fuck _ was that, Chanyeol!”

##  *******

As physically fit as he was, Jongin couldn’t believe how neglected Chanyeol’s body had been. For someone of his age, of his stature, and with his level of physical activity, the dissonance between his physical body and mind was astounding. There were more than a dozen or so—some bigger and more serious than others—of severed connections along his spinal cord. The spine acted as a highway of sorts. It was the main pathway utilized by the body to process and stream various energies—spiritual, life, mental, and such. When a series of blocks accumulated throughout, the body became more prone to unwanted energies, such as misfortune in the form of accidents. As had been the case with Chanyeol, clearly; it was no wonder he had gotten hurt. I was a miracle his injury hadn’t been more severe.

Jongin worked his magic and corrected most of it, which Chanyeol confirmed. So, Jongin moved into the next stage and brought out the oil. It would further help reduce friction as Jongin smoothed out the remaining imperfections. Everything was proceeding smoothly and according to plan.

Or so, he had thought.

It occurred to Jongin halfway through massage that Chanyeol’s body was acting the exact opposite way than it should have been. Instead of relaxation and ease, he was showing signs of a feverish sickness, if that even made any sense. His skin burned and his breathing seemed strained.

“Chanyeol, are you okay?” Jongin had to ask, placing a tentative hand on his back as he did so. 

He could no longer decipher the information being relayed directly into his palm. The nerves that were pulsing methodically underneath Chanyeol’s skin just moments prior were now agitated, simmering mess. It was worrying. Jongin had never experienced such an abrupt change in communication before, especially considering Jongin had just spent the last fifteen minutes working out the disharmony within Chanyeol’s body that was responsible for his overall discomfort.

Something was wrong.

“I can’t breathe,” grunted Chanyeol.

Jongin lifted his hands immediately. 

“Huh?” Jongin, despite his initial pause, was in high alert. “Are you allergic?” Panic bubbled within Jongin’s chest. He’d seen the oil used have an adverse effect on the clients. One person had broken out in hives no more than five minutes after the oil was applied. Allergic reactions were no joke. “Is it the oil? The incense? Chanyeol?” Jongin wiped his hands, blew out the burning incense and turned on the ceiling fan. He thought to open a window, but when he realized Chanyeol hadn’t responded, he hurried to his side.

“Chanyeol, hey—I need you to sit up.” He shook Chanyeol’s shoulder. He still didn’t respond. Jongin shook him again, harder. Chanyeol mumbled something that was too inaudible to be understood, but he more so glad he was still conscious.

If he was having an allergic reaction that affected his breathing, then he needed to get up and get as far away from whatever was causing it. It had to have been the incense. But then again, both the sandalwood and lavender oil were extremely fragrant. It could’ve been both! 

“Your body’s… You’re having a really weird reaction.” Jongin positioned his hands on Chanyeol’s arm and back and tried to lift him—but there was no way he was hefting _ anybody _ of Chanyeol’s bulk. “You have to at least sit up, Chanyeol,” Jonin pleaded. “It’s harder to breathe when you’re lying on your stomach. Come on, please?” 

Chanyeol was back to not responding so Jongin crouched in front of him at the end of the table. “Lift your head, Chanyeol. Open your eyes. Look at me.”

“I don’t… I don’t know what you did to me. What did you do? Stop—stop it.” Chanyeol’s speech, although interrupted by his excessive breathing, was slurred and had the drawl of a child. Jongin hadn’t seen such a lethargic allergic reaction before. If anything, Chanyeol seemed… _ high? _

Jongin rubbed Chanyeol’s head, hoping he could coax him to raise it this way. He just had a feeling. “Hey, I don’t know, either,” he whispered soothingly, as if he was caring for a Park Chanyeol that was a quarter of his actual age_ . _ “But you have to get up so we can figure it out, alright? Hey, look at me, Yeol. Okay? Look at me.”

Slowly, but surely Chanyeol begin to lift his face from the cushion. His pupils were dilated, but the thing that stood out most about them was the color. Chanyeol’s eyes were brown. They should’ve been brown. But the color eclipsed by his iris were a deep red. It reminded Jongin of two things—_ blood _ and the morning before.

The panic in his chest froze rock solid as Jongin’s gut told him to look away. He couldn’t, or rather, he was too slow. 

Crimson light blinded him followed by a crushing, scorching heat. It pressed against his face, searing, until he felt it sinking into his skin, smoldering then. The heat sank deep, snaking its way through his veins, engulfing his heart and swallowing it whole. Everything in its path was set ablaze. Jongin wanted to die.

“I’ll take care of you now.”

The words burned as if they were branded against every part of Jongin’s being. He screamed.

Jongin fell on his butt and crab-walked backwards until his back was against the wall—which was only a measly five feet away, but any distance between them was more than enough.

“What the _ fuck _ was that, Chanyeol!” Jongin shouted, clutching his chest where the sticky warmth had settled after his entire body had been completely _ drenched _ in it. Never before had Jongin ever felt so _ unclean _ on the inside, so _ violated. _ Chanyeol had _ somehow _ screwed with his body again—just like he had yesterday morning.

Back then, Jongin had chalked the weirdness up to a dizzy spell over an empty stomach, too distracted by making it to class on time, but no—not this time. There was no excusing that _ same _ sickly feeling when both incidents were accompanied by glowing red eyes, which Chanyeol’s still were, by the way!

Chanyeol squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed his head, mumbling something unintelligible. He growled and gripped the edges of the table, as if he was bracing himself for an earthquake. “What did you do to me?”

“What _ did I _ ?” Jongin screamed. “What _ did you? _ What did _ you _ do _ to me? _”

Chanyeol snapped his head up and snarled—baring his teeth. The canines, a sudden addition to Chanyeol’s mouth, stood out in particular, and Jongin’s surprise came out as a sharp squeak. In slow motion, Jongin noticed the other uncanny physical characteristics about Chanyeol that hadn’t been there when he was giving him a full-body massage just minutes prior.

Besides his sharp teeth and red eyes, Chanyeol’s hands had sharpened and were piercing the pliant material of Jongin’s expensive massage table. Chanyeol’s arms had grown in size, too, the veins constricted to his skin by the bulging muscle beneath. This was not the body of a man. This was the body of a—no, Jongin didn’t know _ what _ he was.

“Just what the hell are you? Some… Some monster freak?”

Chanyeol didn’t seem to like that question, and his scowl deepened. He shot up as if he was going to launch forward and _ attack _, so Jongin flinched. But when he peeked one eye open, he realized that Chanyeol had risen too quickly on the table. It wobbled and teetered before everything—including Chanyeol—was turning and spinning and crashing down right in front of him. The cacophony was deafening and Jongin winced even though he hadn’t been a victim of the fall.

Chanyeol hissed, cursed, and the voice that accompanied it was raspy and guttural and the kind of voice Jongin associated with nightmares. Genuinely fearing for his life, while Chanyeol was down and out, Jongin used this as an opportunity to escape. He ran to his room, shut the door, and _ locked _ it. Then, with the shame of a hundred horror movie victims, he remembered he had left his phone in the living room. Damn it. He was trapped.

Oh, well. 

The best he could do now was hide under his blankets and pray that Chanyeol—or whoever that was—would take mercy on the guy who had just given him a lifesaving, money-saving, hospital-trip saving back massage.

Chanyeol could go after that one noisy neighbor everyone in the building hated, and nobody would bat an eye. It was thoughts like these that kept Jongin from having a major freak out about what he had witnessed.

It was also these trivial thoughts that had kept him from ruminating over the fact that Sehun _ was _right, even if his best friend hadn’t known exactly just how.

Park Chanyeol and he, they were both _ very _ similar.

They were Pernats, and that was most certainly the biggest, fattest surprise yet.

##  *******

Chanyeol’s thigh and hip bone ached, and he had a bit of rug burn in places he’d rather not mention. It was because of that—the burn of his skin from where it had scraped against the carpet—that he had remembered he was naked still. Who knew capsizing from four feet in the air could do such a number on him?

He propped himself up on shaky arms to lean against the fallen table and the couch. His towel had landed a few feet away, but he didn’t bother attempting to retrieve it, even if it was within reaching distance of his heel if he stretched his leg far enough. He wasn’t really worried about his apparent state of dress, or lack thereof, at the moment. Not when so much shit had just happened. His mind was a mess right now. 

He closed his eyes and inhaled, deciding to concentrate on his body instead, assessing the internal changes from the outside and moving inward.

He was in what he would call a partial transformative state—it was the best potetnial explanation he had. Not fully werewolf, but showing changes distinct enough to definitely not classify him as human presenting. A set of claws, canines, and a jacked up body tended to make individuals stand out amongst the crowd. If what Jongin had said was too believed to be true then, he could assume his eyes were indeed glowing red as well.

Jongin. He didn’t want to think about him. Before, the thought of him—even as little as a quick mention of his name—only brought headaches, but now, it was worse. It brought _ everything _. Literally, everything and anything, and Chanyeol had no clue where to start or how to sort through it all.

It was because of_ what had happened _.

Jongin had asked him what he did, and Chanyeol had asked him the same question in return because if Chanyeol did what he thinks he did to Jongin, there was absolutely no legitimate way it should have even been able to happen in the first place! Not without some external influence, anyhow. As in, _ Jongin _ and his mysterious witchy weirdness _ had _ to have been responsible for whatever Chanyeol may have done because it wouldn’t have _ ever _ happened otherwise. Simply put, doing that should have been _ impossible _ for him.

Chanyeol hadn’t understood Jongin’s big freak out, because it was _ his _ fault anyway. In fact, His reaction only got Chanyeol more riled up because he _ knew _ it was Jongin’s fault, and yet Jongin was no doubt walking around clueless.

In any case, if anyone should have been having a major freak out, it was Chanyeol. It was he who carried the knowledge of what he had just unintentionally done. It was he who would suffer the consequences. How unfair was that? Chanyeol was the victim of a witch’s unstable abilities. He should be the one hiding away in his room, _ not the witch responsible. _

On the coffee table nearby, the phone rang, and the shrill repetitiveness had Chanyeol nearly giving it the same fate as his alarm clock. But, even in what he would call a partial transformative state, he had enough sense that the most efficient solution would be just to simply end the call. He tried and _ oops _, his hands were oily and sharp, thus hard to maneuver with accurately. He accidentally answered/

“Hello?” he said reluctantly after clearing his throat three times. He hoped his voice didn’t sound too unfamiliar, knowing it was probably an octave or two lower.

“Hello, Jong—Chanyeol? Hey, Chanyeol, is that you? Why are you answering from Jongin’s phone?” Chanyeol pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the caller ID, and yup, _ Best Fran _ , was _ not _ what he had Sehun labeled under. He sighed. He didn’t have the energy to come up with an excuse. Luckily, he didn’t have too. “Oh, it is late where you’re at. Did he fall asleep on the couch again?”

Chanyeol would take that, no problem. “Yep.”

“Ahh, well, I just wanted to check up on him. See how he’s doing.” Sehun paused, as if he was hesitating or whether to continue talking or not. Chanyeol could tell he was outside, the crisp crackling of a campfire nearby. “Is he doing alright?” he finally caved when Chanyeol didn’t offer him anything. He sounded like a guilty parent on their first vacation without their child. It was ridiculous. Despite his whole show of teasing Jongin for being alone before he had left, Sehun was just as dependent on Jongin as Jongin was on him. An unhealthy relationship.

“He’s fine.”

Sehun didn’t seem satisfied with that. “Are you sure? Is he moving a lot? Talking a lot? Moping? He’s not moping, is he? He hasn’t called or texted me, and I’m afraid he’s, like, mad or upset or depressed or something.” 

Before Chanyeol could get an insistent, “_ He’s fine _” in to save himself from Sehun’s worrisome blabber, his roommate kept on. 

“This is probably the longest we’ve spent apart, you know? Usually on breaks, we spend time with my family since his is—well, you know. And, I dunno, I just would hate for him to have a miserable week because of me, you know?”

Chanyeol rolled his eyes. “He’s fine, Sehun.” Chanyeol _ normally _ would have left it there. He would’ve dropped a half-assed excuse to end the call and be on his merry way. But something in him—he didn’t know what it was yet, there was a lot inside of his brain that he was ignoring for the moment—made him add, “As far as I care—and I don’t—he’s not ignoring you, and he isn’t sitting around crying all day. He’s been busy annoying _ me _ too much to do any of that. He gave me a massage, just now, he did. Right before he fell asleep. So, he’s not thinking about you 24/7, Sehun. He’s fine.”

Sehun was quiet on the line for a while. Besides the “Oh,” he mumbled, there was nothing else for a long time. Chanyeol only endured the silence because he was debating with himself why he felt the need to overshare like that. It was out of character.

“This is so good to hear,” Sehun said slowly, as if each word was being finely made and checked for imperfections, “You two are getting along then, I presume?”

Chanyeol coughed. “Hardly.”

Sehun laughed, and so badly Chanyeol wanted to tell him he wasn’t joking, but Sehun’s childlike chortles could disarm a murderer. Of course, Chanyeol didn’t stand a chance.

“Haha, okay, I’m glad to hear that I was worried over nothing. I’ve always said you two are similar, I’m glad this week has forced you guys together to work out your differences. By the time I’m back home, you two might be so close that I’ll feel like the third wheel.” Sehun laughed.

“If that was all you wanted to know, then—”

“Wait, wait!” Sehun said, sounding as if he was smiling. He started to sing, “Haaaaappy Birthday to You!” Cha-cha-cha’s and all. Chanyeol covered his face with one hand and briefly considered digging his claws into his skull. After he finished, Sehun asked, “Woah, was the massage Jongin’s gift for your birthday? That’s awesome, dude!”

Chanyeol wasn’t letting that one slide. With a grumbled “Thanks,” and an empty “Bye”. he hung up the phone shortly thereafter.

The massage was no gift, far from it actually. Chanyeol would never in a million years have asked to imprint on Jongin, much less anybody at his big age of twenty-five for that matter. This was more like a curse, a stupidly big, needlessly fat one that Chanyeol had no idea how he was going to break.

He inhaled, lest his anger get the best of him again.

Like. What the fuck? Imprinting was for hormonal, pubescent and developing teenagers who were experiencing their first urges and completing their first transformations. Grown ass men weren’t supposed to _ imprint _.

He exhaled.

Like. What the actual fuck. Imprinting was for purebreds. It wasn’t for _ mutts _like Chanyeol. Half-werewolves didn’t have the active imprinting gene. Shouldn’t have. None of this made any fucking sense.

He inhaled.

Just his fucking luck. Other were-kids started with a little extra hair here or there, a beefed-up body, or even a few sharp teeth, but _ he _ had to have started with this sticky phenomenon he wasn’t even supposed to posses. Fucking fantastic.

He exhaled, a bit shakily and it turned into incredulous laughter.

He just couldn’t wrap his simple head around the fact that _this was impossible_. Was _supposed to be._ He was twenty-five now for God’s sakes! Even if he had stopped taking his pills, even if blood tests had shown that he would never be able to _fully _repress his father’s DNA, there was still no logical _biological _explanation for why _this_ gene had activated now.

He did have one theory, and it certainly wasn’t logical.

His out of body experience had been so strong, so overwhelmingly vivid. He’d never experienced anything like it before, and he didn’t think the sandalwood and lavender combination was to blame. This was the work of _ magic, _whether Jongin realized it or not.

And because it was _ his _ fault, _ he _ was going to have to come up with a creative solution to _ fix _ what he started. Because Chanyeol?

Chanyeol was the one who was victimized.

He was innocent, and he was tired.

Really tired, actually. In the sleepy kind of way, yes. He needed some sleep. Both his mind and body were exhausted from a long day of suffering. He could have his big freak out in the morning, hopefully _ without _the canines and claws involved. He would question Jongin then, too. For now, he just wanted to sleep.

So, using the couch cushion as a pillow, he did.

##  *******

Chanyeol’s senses, which had been attuned to the natural world, had upgraded to include Jongin. That was just the simplest way of explaining the imprint. Chanyeol hated to think about it in any more depth. He wasn’t an expert, anyhow.

What mattered in the moment was that Chanyeol could see Jongin with his fucking eyes closed. Even as he slept, thoughts of Jongin couldn’t escape him. _ Jongin’s thoughts couldn’t escape him _.

It was fucking great. Feeling his _ confusion. _ Feeling his _ concern. _ Feeling his _ panic. _Sensing the building rhythm of his heartbeat as he probably had a nightmare. Imagining him probably holding himself as he trembled. It was really fucking great having an entire person’s internal systems in his mind alongside his. It really helped Chanyeol in getting his eight hours of sleep a breeze.

Chanyeol snapped his eyes open. He didn’t know what time it was. Maybe time had stopped. It was pitch black in the house, but his body knew where to move.

He was right. Jongin was holding himself as he trembled. His blankets had been kicked to the ground, and his sheets were drenched with sweat. He was also shirtless.

No, Chanyeol could not see that. It was pitch black, remember? He _ smelled _it. Jongin’s stench was so sweeping Chanyeol couldn’t tell if his body was really swaying or not. It was awfully disgusting, and yet Chanyeol’s nose wouldn’t turn off. How disgusting. 

The traces of sandalwood and lavender oil weren’t enough to mask the other scents that came to him. Cheap perfumes and colognes of _ strangers _ —wait a minute, these were his work scents! He’d been out all day and hadn’t showered yet? The stench! The grime! The build-up! Yuck! So, that’s why the smell was so _ rank _ and off-putting.

Chanyeol’s stomach churned, and he turned to leave the room.

Then Jongin thrashed, shooting a long leg out over the edge of the bed and let out a helpless whimper.

A weight pressed against Chanyeol’s chest. He felt compelled to _do_ _something. _It was a gross feeling.

Jongin was such a big baby. Chanyeol didn’t know how Sehun put up with him so long. He shuddered suddenly, nerves tickling around his neck. He was really going to be sick. Chanyeol reached for the doorknob and then froze.

Chanyeol heard the single breath Jongin took as he shuddered awake, and the slow exhale of it as he realized the phantom images weren’t real. Chanyeol wasn’t sure how long he stood perfectly still.

The bed shifted. “Sehun?”

Jongin’s confusion shifted to awareness. 

“What are you doing in my room?”

It was like the darkness had spoken to him. With the window covered, everything in the room was shadows. He couldn’t tell if Jongin was sitting up or not. He could tell he was irritated, though, mixed with a pinch of fear.

“You were having a nightmare.”

“Okay, _ and _ ?” Jongin radiated _ ‘What did you do exactly to help?’ _, so strongly that Chanyeol almost thought it was said aloud

Chanyeol didn’t have an acceptable answer. He’d like to think his presence helped break Jongin out of his nightmare, but he knew that wouldn’t fly with him. Besides, it wasn’t the case anyhow. Jongin awoke all on his own, sweating, panting, thinking Sehun had come back for him.

“We should talk,” Chanyeol said.

Jongin huffed. Maybe he was rubbing his face, digging his heels in his eyes, or maybe he was shoving his head back into his pillow. Chanyeol didn’t know. He couldn’t see. He only sensed an abundance of exasperation. And Jongin’s BO.

“Well, turn on the light at least. Feels like I’m speaking to a demon.”

Chanyeol wondered if that was something he’d ever actually done before. After all, Jongin _ was _ a witch. He wouldn’t put anything past him, now. They were in uncharted territories. In the Pernat World, anything was possible.

Chanyeol flicked on the light, blinding himself. His eyes were especially sensitive, but as he opened them, they instantly found and focused on Jongin, taking him in hungrily. As he noticed the damp hair plastered to his forehead, he recognized all of his observations were spot-on. The blanket pooled at his feet, his sheets were dark where he had laid, and he _ was _ shirtless. He only wore plaid boxers.

Jongin’s thoughts were pressing forward in his mind. Feelings of… shock? Embarrassment? Jealousy?

“Why are you still naked?” asked Jongin calmly, finally _ looking up _ —or rather _ away _—from where his bulging eyes had been trained.

A brisk breeze found Chanyeol at that moment, and he looked down. The head of his dick met his gaze halfway. Gasping, Chanyeol doubled over and covered himself with his hands, where he was relieved to see that his claws had gone away. He then flicked the light switch back off.

“Guess you aren’t shy,” Jongin coughed. Chanyeol could feel his _ pleasure _ and _ amusement _ loud and clear.

“I—you didn’t—_ fuck. _” Chanyeol bolted out of the room, fuck an explanation.

He wouldn’t have been stark naked if Jongin hadn’t forced him to strip completely for his massage.

Why did Kim Jongin have to ruin everything?

##  *******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well....i hope everyone enjoyed the month of October lmfao I most certainly did...time really flew by!.... asdnaskdjnasd but omg i SWEAR the update was NOT supposed to take this long, i just got distracted planning out the rest of the story (yes, ending has been confirmed hehe), rewriting things, and procrastinating so what's neeeew~ to that one person who hit up my CC on twt asking when i was gonna update,,, i love you! always feel free to ask, i'll never get annoyed by that haha~
> 
> so, this chapter was actually cut in half because i wanted to do some more rewriting (literally an addiction) plus i really wanted to let some things for yall sink in, so, let let me know what you guys think/thought! i love seeing your comments (and criticism hehe), the short ones and the long ones! (what's funny is that i never know how to respond lmaoo i'm not good with sentimentalities hehe) also speaking of size, how long do you guys prefer chapters to be? The shorter ones for this story have been a little over 4k (i think) with the longer ones 8-9Kish, i believe. let me know what you guys prefer lol
> 
> Also, EXO is coming back!! During thanksgiving week too, let's celebrate, yay! omg let's see how much of my story I can get out before the timeline passes us by hahaha but i hope everyone has a good day/night! thank u for ur patience! and see u 'soon' :))))))


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Chanyeol washed his hands, he found himself glaring at Jongin’s door. Waiting for him. He should be out of his room at any second now.
> 
> Any second now.
> 
> Any second.
> 
> Now.
> 
> Well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)... fyi: the nsfw language sort of picks up from here...heheh.

_A Wild Boner Appeared!_

_Jongin used Gawk!_

_It was Super Effective!_

_Chanyeol used Cover!_

_It had No Effect!_

_The Wild Chanyeol fled!_

## ***

They were going to have this talk _eventually_, but Chanyeol could see the benefits in taking five before doing so.

Having safely retreated to his room, he covered his face and grieved for the demerit to his well-crafted image. Even worse than having sprung a woody in front of Jongin was the fact that his embarrassment hadn’t helped it go down one bit. He took Little Yeollie—well, not _that little (not little at all, actually)_—in hand, and shook it.

“Bad penis,” he said, pressing down on it with a stern finger, only for it to offer a firmer salute back. “Bad.” It wasn’t going to go down without a fight, it seemed. Sighing, Chanyeol attempted a few tugs, but it just didn’t feel right. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with _this_ in_ that_ way.

The next best thing involved a shower. At least he was already naked. Plus, a quick whiff of his own armpits told him he could use one, anyhow. Now that he thought about it, the last time he had showered was… before he had injured himself working out, so that was… how long ago exactly? Chanyeol grimaced. It was a miracle Jongin could even do his job. Maybe the incense and oil served multiple purposes.

Chanyeol cringed at the thought. Why was he thinking of him? While the imprint may have given him access to Jongin’s mind, Chanyeol refused to have him in _his_ head. Especially, when he was still sporting a boner that you could snort a line of coke off of. Besides, the lavender and sandalwood his body reeked of was far worse than any body odor he could possibly muster. For more than critical reason, he _definitely_ needed a shower.

It was a miserable shower. Chanyeol left the water at its lowest temperature just to position his (not so) little traitor under the worst of the icy spray. It was completely and utter torture, but it was the price to pay in order to restore his pride.

Freshly dried and properly clothed, Chanyeol was ready to get back to business.

And then he ran into a half-naked Jongin in the hallway. They both froze. He saw Jongin’s eyes lower then snap back up. Then, dripping droplets along the way, Jongin wordlessly moved to his room, and shut his room door behind him.

Maybe the talk could wait a little longer.

Chanyeol’s stomach growled.

Yeah, it could wait.

Chanyeol beelined for the kitchen and rummaged through the freezer, praying there was something edible within. Nobody had gone grocery shopping since the previous Wednesday—and by nobody, Chanyeol meant Sehun and Jongin. Grocery shopping had initially been a group activity, but the three of them were awkward together, so Chanyeol opted out. He wrote his list and passed it on, hoping they were capable of actually reading the labels of the food they were grabbing. Of course, it was _his_ list that contained most of the actual food they ate, but that was never a problem since they all chipped into the grocery budget, anyway.

The waffles didn’t look appetizing and neither did Chanyeol’s frosted phone that he had thrown in there. They both remained as he tried the fridge, instead. There was unused ground beef from the sloppy joe Jongin had called himself an expert in making some days ago. His creation was starting to mold. Chanyeol left that there, too.

He could do something with spare ground beef. After washing his hands and setting his cooking space, he got to work. He tore, rolled, shaped, pounded—

What was Jongin doing? It shouldn’t have been taking him so long to get dressed—certainly not with his fashion sense. He wasn't sleep, was he? The light on the stove blinked 4:14 AM; he could’ve been tired. No. No, he wasn’t tired. When Chanyeol concentrated hard enough, he could somehow tell. He definitely hated it, but he had gotten his answer: Jongin was awake.

Anyways.

Chanyeol seasoned, pounded some more, flipped, seasoned some more, and pounded one last time before he threw the first two palm-sized patties on the cast iron. For the record, they were _not_ Jongin’s palm size, they were his; Chanyeol wasn’t cooking a kid’s meal.

As Chanyeol washed his hands, he found himself glaring at Jongin’s door. Waiting for him. He should be out of his room at any second now.

Any second now.

Any second.

Now.

Well…

“Wait a fucking minute,” Chanyeol said, whipping back towards the stove. He counted the number of patties he’d made, half a dozen patties, perfectly round. Although his appetite for meat had suddenly increased tenfold within the last few hours, there was no way he could stomach six burgers. Was he cooking for both himself _and_ Jongin?

“Fuck.” His mind wasn’t merely jumping to relate everything to Jongin, it was also subconsciously being considerate of him. No, it wasn’t _his _mind, per se, but the beast within. Still, he shuddered thinking of how Jongin would take this seemingly random act of kindness after everything that had happened. He couldn’t wait to stress that this was not of _his_ doing.

But hold on. Why couldn’t it be?

Chanyeol clapped himself on the back, he was on to something!

He just had to change his way of thinking, shift his perspective a bit. If he played his cards right, he could use this to his advantage. This _act of kindnes_s could act as a sort of pseudo-peace offering, a means of initiating an unpassable opportunity so that Jongin would be more willing to talk.

Chanyeol wasn’t a fool. He didn’t expect Jongin to be 100% open to talking after everything that had transpired, but the key to a man’s heart was through his stomach—he wasn’t sure where he’d heard that, but he believed it! Food always opened people up and got them talking. Food was free therapy, and if there was anyone who needed therapy, it was Jongin. Or would be when he found out just exactly what the imprint entailed.

More importantly, Jongin would never decline a free meal, considering what he could cook was scarcely edible in the first place anyhow.

Chanyeol smiled to himself as he flipped the two patties, the sweet aroma filling his nose, the_ cracking, sizzling, _and_ popping_ all music to his ears. This was checkmate.

Though he couldn’t lie, the thought of having any type of serious conversation with Jongin over burgers at the crack of dawn was a lot to swallow. But it needed to be done, because nothing was worse than never having it at all. Because then what? What would happen then? To him? If he couldn’t somehow fix this? He hated to think about it.

Being stuck with Jongin as a roommate was hard enough as it was. He wouldn’t dare imagine what it’d be like being stuck with him forever. No, not him. Anyone or anything _but_ him.

Chanyeol held a spatula to the ballooning meat, watching it bleed. It was all fatty oils, but he couldn’t help but lick his lips seeing the juices gush. Without a doubt, these burgers would be delicious.

Would Jongin think so, too?

## ***

_And here, we see the elusive beast man’s rock-hard cock in its enemy’s natural habitat. It seems to be showing off its impressive strength yet at the slightest engagement, it also runs away._

## ***

“We should talk.”

They _should _talk. Jongin agreed. 

Whether that was because of the leftover adrenaline from his nightmare coursing through his veins, or the fact that Chanyeol was the one actually _wanting to talk_, he didn’t know. What he did know was that he was witnessing another new emotion from Chanyeol—uncomfortableness—and whatever conversation was capable of evoking that was worth exploring.

Not that seeing him uncomfortable was what Jongin had wanted to see when he decided that any emotion Chanyeol displayed was fair game. He was kind of regretting that now. All of it, actually. If only he had just… not have bothered to make an effort. Perhaps, this—whatever this sticky warmth inside of him was—would have never happened. If only they could just go back to pretending like each other didn’t exist.

They still technically could, right? What was stopping them?

Sure, Jongin had agreed, but then, he saw a vibe-killing boner first thing out of a nightmare and changed his mind. People were allowed to change their minds, right?

They were Chanyeol’s words, anyway, not his. And it wasn’t like he had promised or sworn on the bible or anything like that. It was well within his every right to not want to talk with someone if he didn’t want to. If he were to hold off on a surely-would-be-awkward conversation for say, just a week until Sehun returned, then why not? What was the rush? If he and Chanyeol agreed to never mentioning this night ever again, Jongin wouldn’t think twice about it.

The wishful thinker he was. There was no way he could last a week avoiding Chanyeol. He needed to be serious about this. He needed advice. And his phone. Where the heck was his phone?

Jongin peeked his head out of his room and checked to see if the coast was clear. It was. Chanyeol was nowhere to be seen. Great, this was his chance.

He tiptoed to the living room, stepping over the fallen massage table and found his phone lying by the couch. When the screen lit up, he half-had been expecting a missed call or a message from Sehun, but there was none. To tell the truth, Jongin was a bit disappointed that Sehun hadn’t communicated with him once since he drove off. He hadn’t even sent a check-up text, an ‘_I made it here safely,_’ text; no, _‘don’t miss me too much xoxoxo_’ text. Nothing.

Jongin didn’t want to be the first one to reach out. It had only been a few days since Sehun left; how would it look if he called asking him for help? Besides, how would Sehun be able to help in the first place? This was a situation involving Pernats and the Other World, and Sehun was a human. Jongin preferred Sehun not know anything about this, actually. He didn’t want their relationship to change.

Forget his phone, Jongin didn’t need that. What he needed was a shower – badly.

As the water warmed and steam wisped around him, Jongin stared at himself in the mirror. Compared to Chanyeol, his body wasn’t _that_ far off. Sure, he lacked massive biceps, hard abs, and sizeable quads, but he wasn’t all stick and bones, either. 

If there was one word that Jongin would describe himself as, it was _defined._ He had lean muscles, just enough for him to look good in tight t-shirts. Running had shaped his legs nicely, and they were only lightly dusted with hair, so they looked somewhat smooth, too. Jongin had been told countless times before that he could model. Yes, it was Sehun who was the one always saying it, but regardless—it still counted. 

Jongin stretched his shoulders backwards and pressed on his chest. Not the puffiest pecs, but he wasn’t exactly a walking pancake, either. Overall, he didn’t feel insecure standing next to Chanyeol, who spent thrice as much time working out. Chanyeol was a big guy, so his big muscles suited him. Jongin, while similar in height, had a smaller frame, so his lean muscles suited him. That was how Jongin viewed things.

Sehun, on the other hand… Yeah, Jongin wouldn’t want to be in the lineup next to him. He had a body fit for the gods. Good proportions all around. Too perfect. If they were in casual dress, Jongin wouldn’t mind at all. But if they were nude… Gosh, life was really unfair. Why did he always get the short end of the stick? Well, his stick wasn’t _that_ short.

With his thoughts scattered, Jongin spent longer washing himself than usual. Though, no amount of scrubbing could remove what Chanyeol had done to him; but it didn’t stop him from squirting more of Sehun’s body wash and trying.

Of course, it was just his luck to run into Chanyeol while half-naked. This time around, Chanyeol was much more appropriately dressed in a tank and basketball shorts. Before Jongin realized it, his gaze had dropped, and he stared _at it_. Then, he felt an intense gaze that bore right through him, making him forget that he was wearing a towel. Jongin gripped it tighter. If Chanyeol had expected him to take one for the team and even out the score by flashing him, then he would be disappointed. Jongin hurried to his room, shutting and locking it behind him.

He dressed quickly, in an overflowing sweater that hadn’t looked too familiar—maybe it was Sehun’s—and shorts. As per routine, he moisturized his skin, and when he was done with that, he looked around his room for something else to do. It was 4 AM, but after his “nap” he was wide awake. He wasn’t sure how long he could last camping in his room, listening to his stomach grumble while he sniffed the air.

Why did Chanyeol have to be in the kitchen cooking? Jongin wondered what that delicious smell was. Foolishly, he opened his door and marched into the hall to get a better look. Maybe he could have figured it out by its mouth-watering scent alone, but his hunger had gotten the best of him and the rational side of his brain.

Burgers. At four-something in the morning, Chanyeol was cooking burgers. Man-eating monsters wouldn’t waste their time cooking burgers, would they? With that thought in mind, Jongin deemed it safe to interact. 

“Mhmm, that smells good. Burgers?” Jongin had a plan. Appear friendly, strike up a casual conversation, maybe brush up on whatever Chanyeol had done, talk through it _fast and efficiently_ like responsible adults, and be done with it all before noontime.

Chanyeol plated the first two burgers onto buns and slapped two more on the skillet.

“Oh, you made me some?” Jongin asked, sounding hopeful. His stomach was currently doing summersaults.

“No. Why would I?”

Unexpectedly, the words stabbed him deep.

“Well, considering…”

Chanyeol made a derisive sound, and Jongin paused to decipher what it meant.

“Considering what?”

“Considering you did—_whatever you did—_to me!”

Chanyeol shook his head. “You seem to have some misconceptions about what actually happened.”

“So, what _actually _happened then?”

Chanyeol turned around. “It’s not whatever _I_ did to you,” he said, twirling his spatula like a wand, and flinging meat juice every where in the process, “it’s because of what _you _did to _me_.”

Grimacing, Jongin covered his face. “Stop making a mess. And I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Chanyeol returned to stove. “You will,” he said. “Have a seat. Food’s almost done.”

## ***

Chanyeol wasn’t sure if cooking for Jongin had been a mistake. Jongin had always been an obnoxious eater, chewing with his mouth open more than he did close, so that wasn’t the issue. The problem was that Jongin was scheming. 

Instead of satiating his hunger, he seemed like he was using eating as a way to get out of talking, chewing more than forty times with each large bite taken. 

If he thought he was going to foil Chanyeol’s plan by smash the very food that was strategically made for him, he had another thing coming. Their conversation was inevitable.

As if Chanyeol would let him get away so easily, anyway.

“While you’re stuffing your face, _I’ll_ talk.”

Jongin sat directly across from him, cheeks bulging with two big bites of burger, and wide eyed. 

Chanyeol understood immediately. Him talking? Did those two even go together? Not really. The reality of it hadn’t been lost on Chanyeol either, but things had changed. The situation was different. 

The “W” Code—No Witches, No Werewolves, No Weirdness—was all but expunged now, meaning all those rules Chanyeol lived by, they were gone, too.

He would converse and interact with Jongin until they figured out a cure to this… thing, and _then_ they would go back to normal, back to ignoring each other, so as to ensure that nothing like the imprint would ever happen again.

Or, so was his general line of thinking.

“I think we should start with the elephant in the room a.k.a why how we’ve gotten here.” Chanyeol went straight for it. “I’m a Pernat. A werewolf—half-werewolf, actually, but that doesn’t seem to matter anymore,” Chanyeol mused dryly. “Anyways, I imprinted on you.”

Jongin’s burger slapped against his plate and he spluttered, spraying food bits and specks of spit across the table. Calmly, Chanyeol placed a napkin over the mess. “You did _what?”_

“You heard me. I’m not repeating myself.”

“No, I think I _misheard_ you.”

“Then sit there and wonder.”

“Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol narrowed his eyes. “You feel it, don’t you? Inside of you? You know, Jongin. You know.”

Jongin unclenched his fists and leaned back in his seat, staring mindlessly at his half-eaten food.

“Why… how… did this happen?”

“Well…” Chanyeol pursed his lips. How should he answer that? There had to have been a lot of factors in play, right? “It was your fault, mainly.”

“My fault?” Jongin reacted, standing up. “I think I remember you distinctly saying—“ Jongin lowered his voice in a poor attempt at an impression “—_Anyways, I imprinted on you. _Like literally, less than three minutes ago._” _

“I don’t sound like that,” Chanyeol said, rolling his eyes, “And I thought you said you misheard me?”

“It doesn’t matter what you sound like. What matters is what you _said._ And _you_ said that _you_ imprinted on _me_.”

Chanyeol shrugged. “That doesn’t take away from the fact that this is your fault.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Jongin’s voice went all high. “You said _you _imprinted on _me_! Take note of the active voice, Chanyeol! How could I even…” While Jongin went on, Chanyeol picked up his own burger for the first time and bit into it. He hummed, savoring the way flavors collided with his taste buds. It was just as delicious as he imagined. Yum. “…that I just don’t understand.”

“If you’re done yelling, sit back down,” Chanyeol said, dabbing a napkin to his mouth. “You clearly don’t understand a lot of things. You’re a Pernat, too, right? A witch? You know that much at least, right?”

“Of course, I know _that much_!” Jongin retorted, looking as if he would raise out of his seat again. “Why wouldn’t I know what I am? It’s me we’re talking about.”

“If you really knew _that much_, then you should know what you—as a witch—are capable of.”

“Yeah, I’m a witch, but so what?” Jongin huffed. “That’s just… how I was born. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“False,” Chanyeol chirped as he saluted him with a glass of water. “That’s where you’re wrong, witch boy. It means more than you realize.” After a quick sip, he added, “I mean, think about it. I was perfectly fine and normal for—”

“—_Perfectly?_ I wouldn’t use that word—”

“—Like I said. _Perfectly _fine and normal all my life, and then you come along changing that. During my massage, you must’ve done something because before I imprinted, my body felt funny, and coincidentally, _that’s _when all the crazy things started happening.”

“Oh. Wow. That’s… so descriptive.” Jongin spoke with his chin propped up by his arm. “My third eye—it’s awakened now. I’m serious. That… that totally explains everything.”

“It does,” Chanyeol said matter-of-factly. “It was too potent to be anything else _but_ magic. And werewolves don’t _do_ magic. Witches do.”

“False,” Jongin snorted as mimicked him with his own glass of water. “Here’s where _you’re_ wrong, dog breath, because I don’t do magic, either.”

Chanyeol clenched his jaw. “And I guess I didn’t imprint on a bona fide idiot.”

“You really didn’t,” Jongin mumbled, before shouting, “Hey! I was being serious, though! I really _don’t_ do magic. I—I can’t. I haven’t been able to do it my entire life. Not like how my family has. I’m telling the truth. I swear.”

Chanyeol believed him. Even if Jongin was lying—which Chanyeol wished he was—he still would’ve figured out the truth. Imprinting came with an automatic lie detector. It was one of the many features hidden in the fine print. 

Still, this wasn’t what he wanted to hear. If Jongin wasn’t aware of his abilities like Chanyeol had always feared, then it opened up an ever bigger can of worms, one that Chanyeol wasn’t adequately prepared to deal with.

“I’m more human than anything else,” Jongin persisted. “Seriously. I’m not like my family. It’s why I left home. I didn’t belong there.”

Chanyeol sighed. “So, you…really don’t know?”

“How to do magic? No, I don’t. I can’t.”

“No, that’s not what I was going to say. Jongin.” Chanyeol spoke slowly, eyeing Jongin’s expression carefully. “You mean to _honestly_ tell me that you _really_ don’t know that you _can_?”

“That I can what?”

“Perform magic.”

Jongin paused for a second before scoffing. “No, like literally—_I_ can’t. It’s impossible. I just said that.”

“No,” Chanyeol said, “You can, Jongin. I’m telling you because I’ve sensed it. Since the day we first met, actually.”

Jongin said nothing.

“Jongin. I don’t know what you gain by denying this, but let’s try and skip the whole denial sequence, please. I’m sure even you know it by now. I mean, you’re not generating fire with the snap of your fingers, but your magic isn’t exactly the most subtle. The sooner you accept it,” Chanyeol said, attempting to sound as reassuring as possible, “the sooner we can agree that this is all your fault.”

That got to him. Jongin’s guffaw surprised himself, and he dug the heels of his palm in his eyes.

“I think I preferred it more when you barely said anything at all to me,” he groaned.

“Me, too. Me, too.”

## ***

Jongin stood up with his plate. “This is just so… insane.” Without an ounce of hesitation, he grabbed Chanyeol’s now-empty plate, too, and was busy emptying the scraps into the garbage. With no culinary skills under his belt and his table-waiting habit adapted from work, the cleaning role naturally fell to him. “So, let’s pretend that what you’re saying is true, and—"

“It is.”

“Wow, you’re so good at pretending!” Jongin purposely shoved his chair on his way to the sink. As he passed, Chanyeol was blasted with the scent of his body wash. The scent wasn’t his though; it couldn’t have been. It was too clean and too cool_, _so much so that Chanyeol shivered after smelling it. This was Sehun’s scent; he was always the obnoxiously _fresh _one, like a can of unpolluted arctic air released in chilling bursts. Why would Jongin use his body wash? Now, he smelled… unnatural.

Chanyeol stopped wrinkling his nose and exhaled through it roughly. What a weird thought to have.

“Anyways, pretending that this is true,” Jongin started again, staring at the running faucet in deep thought, “and that I _am _suddenly capable of somehow mysteriously doing some kind of inconspicuous magic at a time that would just so happen to greatly inconvenience you, then how…” Jongin worked on scrubbing a plate as he gathered his thoughts. “I don’t know any spells or anything like that. What could I have possibly done to make you _imprint?_ I mean, that just seems… too extreme? Like, I just really feel like this is an accidental _you_ problem that just so coincidentally happened to involve _me_. You know?”

“Since we’re pretending, we could say that.”

Jongin flung soap suds his way, but only a few drops of water reached where Chanyeol sat.

“It’s not true,” Chanyeol said, “but I guess I can’t blame you for not knowing how this whole werewolf-imprinting business works.”

“Care to better explain it then?” Jongin retrieved the skillet and the other dishes Chanyeol used to cook and submerged them in his bubbly water. “We’ve clearly got time.”

They spent an hour talking. 

The dozen or so side-tangents couldn’t even be fully blamed on Jongin’s curiosity. It was Chanyeol who sharing different anecdotes. It was strange, but Chanyeol realized just how little about his life and childhood he had shared with anyone. The unadulterated version, which left the integrity of his werewolf culture intact. It was a bit of a new experience, different from what he was used to when he conversed. 

Every time he had remembered he’d gotten off track with all his rambling, Jongin, who had surprisingly been an attentive listener while he did the dishes, would interject ever so often with a question or ask him to elaborate on what he’d said. By the time Chanyeol returned to his original point of explaining why half-werewolves shouldn’t have been physiologically capable of imprinting on _anyone_, Jongin had finished the dishes and cleaned out the fridge.

“So,” Jongin began, attempting Chanyeol’s request to give him a summary of what he had understood, “because you’re only like half a bitch, you don’t get the full bone?” Jongin laughed harder under Chanyeol’s glare. “Sorry, but I just had to. But okay, okay, so what you’re really saying is that me and my magic hands somehow made it so that you got the full package? I’m right, aren’t I?” Grinning, Jongin shot him with double finger guns. “My massage hit all the right places and activated some cheat codes within your DNA?! That’s so cool!”

“You’re so immature.”

Jongin stuck out his tongue, illustrating his point.

“But I got the gist of it all, right?” Jongin said, “So, how do we undo the cheat code?”

“If it’s magic, then it’s out of my hands,” Chanyeol replied.

Jongin pulled the drain and rinsed out the sink. “If it’s magic, does that mean the imprint is like a spell, then?”

“Huh?”

“Come on! Keep up!” Jongin threw the towel he dried his hands off Chanyeol’s way. He caught it easily. “Instead of your imprint being all biological or whatever… What if…? What if the reason it’s, like, activated is because of magic—”

“—It is?—”

“—Let me finish, Mr. Rudeass! I’m saying, if it’s activated because of magic, then what if it can be _deactivated_ by magic? Like a spell!”

Chanyeol shrugged, twisting and coiling the towel in his hands. “What do I know about magic? Or spells?”

“Are you dense?” Jongin slapped his thighs, and Chanyeol watched them jiggle. His legs were quite long, and surprisingly toned for someone that barely went to the gym. Just then, a scary thought occurred to him. Was Jongin wearing _his _sweater? Chanyeol hadn’t seen it in months. How the hell did Jongin end up with it, and more importantly, how did he think it was his? It looked absolutely massive on him. Chanyeol could hardly tell if he was wearing anything underneath it! If he was, it had to have been only briefs. Chanyeol couldn’t imagine why he would own a pair of shorts that barely reached mid-thigh; and if Jongin did, he couldn’t imagine what was the point in wearing them if they didn’t cover up anything.

“Hello? Pay attention!” Jongin snapped. “If what happened is like a spell, then like all spells, it can be undone or reversed! I know that much.”

What Jongin was saying seemed a bit overly simplified, but he couldn’t deny that the logic made sense. Though, Chanyeol knew there had to have been a fallacy hidden somewhere. He just couldn’t pinpoint. Maybe it was the excessive skepticism in him. Or maybe Jongin’s premature excitement and optimism over everything was making it difficult for his brain to rationalize the suggestion _without_ a hint of suspicion. “You said _if,” _was the best he could criticize.

“Huh?”

Chanyeol stood up and stretched, tossing the towel at Jongin’s face. He fumbled attempting to catch it, and it fell. “You said _if _it’s activated because of magic, _if_ what happened is like a spell. What _if_… that isn’t the case?”

Jongin stood next to him now. Chanyeol watched his lips part, so quick to fire off a rebuttal, but then, only air came out. Yeah, _oh. _Chanyeol felt the _click_ within him. He wasn’t asking what if Jongin’s suggestions were wrong. He was asking what if the imprint couldn’t be undone or reversed?

What if this was permanent?

Then what?

Jongin seemed to choose his words carefully before he spoke again. “Nothing is really permanent in this world. Even if what we have to do requires a blood ritual, we’ll do whatever it takes. This won’t be a permanent thing, Chanyeol. I promise. We’ll find a spell to break up. Break_ it _up_. _Yeah_._”

Chanyeol cocked a brow. “For someone who was just clueless about their own role in this, you sure are confident we can fix this.”

Jongin flashed a smile. “People change!”

“Sure, they do.”

“Speaking of change,” Jongin said, pulling the darkened spot of his sweater away from himself. “I need to. I hate wet clothes.”

Chanyeol followed him to his room. The sweeping scent from a couple hours ago was faint, but it still made Chanyeol’s nose twitch. It was far better than how Jongin had smelled post-shower, though.

“Did you have to follow me?” asked Jongin with his little ass popping into view as he rummaged through what seemed like a mountain of clothes in his closet from Chanyeol’s perspective. What he was looking for was probably on the ground, Chanyeol thought, eyeing his sweater at Jongin’s feet. At least the mystery behind Jongin’s messy clothing-strewn floor was solved, and so was the mystery of his bottom apparel, for that matter. Much to Chanyeol’s disbelief, he _did_, in fact, possess shorts _that_ short for some reason. Chanyeol’s seen boxers longer than those.

“Put on actual clothes while you’re at it. We need to go see experts,” Chanyeol said once he’d found a spot on the floor to stand that wasn’t covered. He leaned against a nearby bookcase for support. The layer of dust that sat on it was not lost on him.

“Experts? Do you know any?” Jongin found a dark long-sleeved shirt and tugged it on. It was a snug fitting turtleneck that Jongin seemed to struggle getting his long limbs through. Jongin was really lean, Chanyeol noticed, and he had abs. Sort of. When he twisted, they were there. Slightly. Maybe in the morning, they were better defined. For those arms, though, he could definitely spend some more time at the gym. His legs looked fine.

Chanyeol turned away as Jongin’s head popped through the neck, so as to get caught staring. Not that he was even looking that much anyhow. 

Jongin’s sweater didn’t cover his legs the way his oversized sweater had, but Jongin didn’t seem uncomfortable in his state of dress. Chanyeol guessed Sehun was to thank for his comfortability. “Well, do you?” Jongin repeated, fixing his sleeves in front of his crotch, unintentionally bringing his bulge into focus.

“No,” Chanyeol swallowed, averting his eyes again. “Of course not. But I know someone who does.”

“Oh, really? Who is it?”

“You, idiot.”

Jongin blinked. “Ooh, yeah, that’s not going to work.”

## ***

“Sure, it will,” Chanyeol said. “You said your entire family practices. That’s as good as it gets.”

“Not quite.” Jongin turned away, staring into his opened dresser. “I haven’t really stayed in touch with my family, you know. I don’t talk to them anymore. We’re sort of estranged.”

Chanyeol was having a hard time keeping his eyes from dropping. “They probably still keep tabs on you. You’re just unaware of it.”

“I don’t care. Doesn’t matter. I’m not going back. I already told them I would never go back there as long as I was alive. The next time they’d see me was in a casket.”

“You actually told them that?” Chanyeol asked.

Jongin sat on his bare bed with a pair of jeans and wiggled into them. “Yes. Well, I wrote it down in my journal—which I left—and since my sisters always read it without my permission, I’m sure they’ve gone in my room and read it already.”

“You kept a diary.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it!” Jongin stood up, tugging the rest of his jeans up with a few bunny hops. There wasn’t much to pack away, he was just working with smaller boxes, wearing skinny jeans and all.

“You’re ridiculous,” Chanyeol commented, prompted by a combination of current observations and prior thoughts.

“So, I’ve heard.”

“So, you’ve shown.”

“So, I have,” Jongin said, exasperated.

“Which is why the ridiculous person doesn’t get a say in our next plan of action, so start packing.” Chanyeol said, kicking off the bookshelf and knuckling the door on his way out. “We leave in thirty.”

“What’s ridiculous is the _action_ part. The _plan_ is solid!” Jongin shouted after him. “And I’m serious! I’m not going back home!”

Chanyeol popped his head back in the doorway. “Yes, you are. Or else” He felt the beast pressing against the shield in his mind, and Chanyeol let some of its energy slip through. Crimson colored the edges of his vision.

“Stop making those eyes!”

“Get to packing, then,” Chanyeol warned, strengthening his shields backup. So, he had _some _control over the beast, it seemed.

“But that’s a three-hour drive, too, Chanyeol!” Jongin whined, and oh how Chanyeol had missed this familiar side of his. “I don’t want to be stuck in the car with you more than five minutes.”

“You did it the other day?” Chanyeol reminded him.

“And I was counting, believe me.”

Chanyeol clicked his tongue and ducked back into the hall, but not before saying, “Sehun would be _so_ disappointed in you.”

This time, Chanyeol was doing the counting.

3… 

2…

1...

“Oh, you’re such an asshole for that!” 

Chanyeol could sense the defeat.

Checkmate.

## ***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, y'all, it's been a while.... :) 
> 
> i suffered over a month trying to "perfect" this chapter, the amount of drafts it's been through is quite frankly ridiculous lol so i'm thankful to finally be through with it (...for now...) i don't want to ever look at it again lmfaoo
> 
> but anyways! i've seen a lot of new kudos pop up recently and i'm so happy that more and more people are discovering A Spell To Break Up. My only question for the newcomers is: where are the comments lmaooo 
> 
> as always, thanks to my early subscribers for continuously showing support for the story and welcome to my new people! i hope the waiting times between the chapters are considerably less for you hahaha but no really, i'm actually quite enjoying the trials and tribulations i'm facing in completing this body of work lmfao, so do not worry; this story is not going anywhere but upwards haha. i show up to everything late, so apparently my stories are no exception lol
> 
> take care y'all, leave a comment if you're doing well! love to hear from you! <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A part of him felt like he was being a shitty road trip buddy, but then the other half reassured him that he wasn’t among friends, so it didn’t count. This wasn’t a “road trip” with Chanyeol. This was just a painstakingly long, three-hour drive with Chanyeol. 
> 
> A big difference on the road to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Feel like I should mention potential trigger warnings // mentions of death, specifically car crash/automobile accident. Nothing serious or sad actually happens though lol :)
> 
> Notice [3/3/2020]: I've decided to just use *'s stage names since they're easier for me to keep track of (and look better in my manuscript personally). I hope that isn't too jarring for anyone, but if it is, I'm happy to revert.

The car shook when Chanyeol slammed the trunk, and Jongin’s stomach felt funny. His hands, which were patting his thighs, sped up until Chanyeol opened his door and paused. Then, the pitter-patter slowed.

“What is it?”

“You packed everything that you needed, right?”

Jongin clicked his tongue. “_Of course_, I packed everything that I needed. I’m not a kid.”

“You say that, yet you pack like one. Only took you an hour.” The car dipped under his weight as he climbed in, and that’s when it hit Jongin that this was real. They were really hopping on the highway and driving back to his hometown. Together. 

Shifting against the hard leather, Jongin pulled on his seatbelt so he could breathe again.

“Continue to cry about it,” he replied, feeling like he had to. He toed his sneakers off, fished his blanket from his backpack, and wrapped it around himself snug as he curled up in his seat. All the while, he felt Chanyeol’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Stare much?” Jongin returned Chanyeol’s vacant stare with one of his own. 

“You look like a kid,” Chanyeol said, no doubt judging the cartoonish bear print hiding his body.

“It’s seven in the morning, and it’s cold,” Jongin said. He raised his blanket to cover his scowl.

“You could’ve turned on the heat, then.” 

“It’s your car. You do it.”

“A kid,” Chanyeol mumbled as he flicked the heat to the highest setting, at first a gush of chilly air but warming as time went on. For a while, the gentle roar of it was the only sound in the car. 

The silence was enough to make Jongin go mad. Would it be like this for three hours—quiet and awkward? He ripped his blanket down, relishing the brief gush of cool air that gusted over him.

“Are we gonna go or just sit here?”

“The car has to warm up first.”

“It’s pretty warm, I think,” Jongin said, turning the heat down himself. “I’m burning up.”

“Oh, you were still under the blanket. I thought you were cold,” Chanyeol said innocently. 

Jongin’s glare dissipated the moment Chanyeol threw his arm behind his seat as he began to reverse. He turned away, pressing his face against the chilled window. “About time. Only took you an hour.”

Chanyeol huffed and clicked on the music. Grunge rock with a funky melody and heavy bass bumped from the speakers. Jongin wrinkled his nose.

“What is this?”

“Art.” 

“It sounds more like—"

“Just hush. Go back under your blanket.” 

Jongin did. After a few minutes, he was beginning to tune out the noise. Then, he was jolted by Chanyeol’s massive hand. 

“What the hell?”

“GPS. Need it. Forgo itt. Do it for me.” 

“Do it for me _please_,” Jongin admonished.

Eyes trained on the road ahead, Chanyeol pointed to the glove department. Within it was the GPS in question. Sighing, Jongin started jabbing through the coordinates. He kept stopping, closing his eyes to recall if the address he inputted was actually accurate.

“Almost forgot.” Jongin finished and hooked the GPS to the front console and went back under his bear-print blanket. And that was how he stayed for a majority of the drive. A part of him felt like he was being a shitty road trip buddy, but then the other half reassured him that he wasn’t among friends, so it didn’t count. This wasn’t a “road trip” with Chanyeol. This was just a painstakingly long, three-hour drive with Chanyeol. 

A big difference on the road to hell.

## ***

Chanyeol couldn’t drive like this. The smaller their ETA shrunk, the more anxious Jongin got, and in turn, the more coiled it made Chanyeol. His eyes were peeled, shifting and darting at any sign of movement on the highway—which was _everything_. And the up-tempo music on his playlist made him self-conscious of speeding, so he had to turn it off. Cars honked and sped around him. It was a two-way road.

Halfway into the drive, he realized it wasn’t his mind that was making him so tense, but Jongin’s.

“Can you relax?” Chanyeol said suddenly, to great effect seeing as there was a break in the stream of intrusive thoughts. He pried his hands from the steering wheel and relaxed them. He hardly drove with two hands.

“What do you mean? My ears aren’t bleeding anymore,” Jongin remarked. “I’m in paradise.” His face remained covered, but there was a level of control in his voice that betrayed him.

“That’s the fourth car crash you’ve imagined,” Chanyeol said. “It’s making me uncomfortable.”

“How…” His blanket slid down his face as he sat up and returned his feet to the floor. “That’s…” His mouth opened and closed and opened and closed again. The thoughts in his mind kept tangling together before a cohesive one could be formed, and the only word he could utter was a measly, “How…?”

“The imprint,” Chanyeol explained, without much explanation at all, actually. It took a moment for the implications to sink in.

“You can tell what I’m thinking?” Jongin gaped at him like a child who wasn’t used to his parents being casual about discussing sex. “I… What? How is that—? Wait a minute! That’s possible? How is that possible?”

Chanyeol shrugged. The logic of the imprint was lost on him as well, but they were Pernats, and these were Pernat matters; did anything make sense? 

“You mean you know everything that I’m thinking?” Jongin repeated, pulling his blanket into his chest. “Like, and you can _see _everything that I’m thinking?” His eyes widened as realized a memory. “Oh… my…God…”

Chanyeol could sense his panic skyrocketing and called his name, hoping to bring him back down to earth. It didn’t help.

“Oh my god, no! Can you see _that_?” Jongin clasped his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “Different thoughts, different thoughts, different thoughts.”

His reaction to this information was arguably worse than his reaction to his partial transformation, Chanyeol thought. How could he get Jongin to get over this?

“Chanyeol.” Jongin leaned forward and in a serious voice asked, “What number am I thinking of?”

Chanyeol wanted so badly to kick him out of the car. “Jongin, please, I’m not a mind reader. Shut up.”

“But you just said—!”

“It’s only intense feelings, emotions, thoughts—etcetera—that allow me to actually know what’s on your mind. That’s it.” Chanyeol said, attempting to explain it simply despite he not understanding it all that well his own self. “I don’t know what you’re thinking all the time, though, but I _can _guess; and no offense, you’re not exactly the hardest person to read.”

“What does that even mean?” Jongin frowned, but before he let Chanyeol indirectly insult him again, he asked, “What else does the imprint do? You never really told me in the first place.”

Chanyeol drummed his fingers on the wheel. “What do you think it does?”

“Can’t you just tell me? Without all the games?”

Chanyeol sighed. “It’s like… you know ducks, right? Ducks imprint on the first thing they see. They think that thing is their mom, and they follow it around.”

“Okay, so what do ducks have to do with wolves? Does that mean you have to follow me around now? For—like—ever?”

They shared a look.

“Please, don’t ever say that word around me,” Chanyeol said, “Like… ever.”

Jongin held up his hands and chuckled. “Not like I want that, either. But continue; fill me in on the rest. Educate me on Were-Culture.”

Chanyeol was starting to think that Jongin was right. He didn’t want to be stuck in the car with Jongin more than five minutes either if he was going to have to keep talking to him about this.

“There’s no need for you to worry about it,” Chanyeol said, much to Jongin’s chagrin. “The imprint doesn’t affect you, anyway; so, let’s just focus on undoing it.”

“This is so unfair,” Jongin pouted. “I’m going back under my blanket then.”

“You do that.” Jongin may not understand it now, but Chanyeol was keeping him in the dark for his own good. Jongin could hardly handle his own baggage; Chanyeol would be foolish to add his own to the mix. The less Jongin knew, the better.

He turned his music back on and concentrated on the road in front of him. The cityscape was long behind them, and a growing fortress of pine trees and evergreens was slowly approaching.

## ***

A low-hanging mist veiled the town’s population on the _Welcome to Misticove_ sign, but Chanyeol suspected the numbers ranged somewhere in the low thousands considering most of the town could be seen from the top of the hill they came in on. Misticove was set in a valley that bled out into a frothy, churning sea. Above them, the clouds stretched as far as the water did; whether they foretold of coming rain or drizzle that had already passed, was uncertain.

“Jongin. Wake up. I think we’re here.”

Jongin slid the blanket down and stared out his window without much expression. He wasn’t actually asleep, but Chanyeol let him have the illusion that he was. It was Chanyeol’s one kind act of the day and Jongin’s reward for trying his best not to have thoughts about their deaths the closer they got to his hometown. 

“The GPS stopped working when we arrived. I’ll need directions after I get gas.”

“Okay.”

There were pine trees huddled together everywhere along the main road, and as Chanyeol got out to refill, he knew why. There was a visceral chill to the damp air, as if phantom hands were clinging to every expanse of exposed skin. A breeze passed, and he shuddered from the inside out. 

“Is the weather always like this?” Chanyeol half-joked, half-wondered as he started the car up. He hadn’t expected Jongin to seriously answer. 

“Cold and miserable? For this time of year, yeah.” He was still staring vacantly out his window while his blanket had fallen to the floor. 

Chanyeol didn’t bother with the heat.

He cleared his throat. “Where do I go next?”

Jongin directed him through the town without much enthusiasm and with an extended index finger. The longer they drove, however, the less urban the landscape became. Chanyeol was starting to doubt Jongin’s memory when he finally said, “This is it. Turn here.”

He must have been planning a murder.

“_Here_?” Chanyeol slowed the car to a stop outside a sketchy gravel road that snaked up into a tree-dense hill. 

“I used to walk this road. To get to the bus stop,” Jongin recalled in a far-off voice. “I remember the kids, how they would always quiet down when it was my turn to be dropped off. They would whisper, about me and my family name; apparently there was a reputation I never knew about. I was the youngest in my family, but my sisters never went to public school—so nobody had really known a lot about us. Nobody had seen our house before, either, so high up and hidden. And since no one had ever walked with me, or was ever here to greet me, I think there was a bit of unease in seeing a kid walk off into the woods alone. One time, when I was the only kid left on the bus, the bus driver had offered, but as soon as he stepped foot on our road, he changed his mind.”

Chanyeol swallowed. “I probably should have asked this already, but what exactly am I walking into here?”

Jongin turned his head, disturbingly slow. “You don’t like surprises?”

“Hate them, actually.”

Chanyeol drove on. Eventually, the land evened out, revealing a house that far exceeded his expectations. Jongin’s family home stood large and ominous, floating on a cloud of mist. He faintly recognized the architecture as gothic—or Victorian, one or the other—with its sharply pointed arch windows, doors, and spires. The only thing that eased Chanyeol’s nerves was the convertible mustang with the rusted hood sitting in the driveway.

“This is where you lived? Are you rich?”

“We’re a family of witches,” Jongin said, attempting a small smile. “Do you really think money would be an issue?” With that, Jongin slid out of the car.

Chanyeol joined him in front of the hood, taking in the looming house silently. With the shades drawn, it was hard to tell if anyone was inside. Considering there was no movement from them, if anyone had heard his truck approaching, they were either expecting company or didn’t care.

“This is…” Chanyeol shook his head. “This is a lot.”

“Yeah,” Jongin agreed, with a sigh. “This is home.” 

## ***

Jongin raised his fist, then lowered it. Maybe they didn’t have to go in? Maybe there was another way? 

“Jongin.” 

No, Chanyeol was right. As much as Jongin wished it were true, that they didn’t need to drive two hundred miles away to this small sleepy town in the middle of nowhere in order to solve their problem, he knew there wasn't another way. 

Chanyeol’s voice reminded him that he wasn’t alone in this, standing on the doorstep of the last place he ever wanted to return to. Chanyeol was his source of strength. Up until he added, “It’s cold.”

Yeah, that was right. Chanyeol wasn’t there _for _him. He was there _because _of him. They were in this mess because Jongin supposedly had abilities he wasn’t aware of, and now they were reaping the consequences of it.

“Knock or I will.” 

Jongin took a deep breath, or maybe it was Chanyeol’s shaky breath he heard as he raised his fist to rasp at the old, wooden door. His knocks were soft, yet the house shook, _vibrated_, everything that was nothing now pulsing with life. The wood of the door darkened and became moist to the touch. The colors of the chipped paint melded together forming a solid coat, and the bushes lining the sidewalk bloomed with large flowers. Suddenly, the house was no longer creepy and defeated by nature, but an image of a restored legacy.

Chanyeol’s breath was stolen away, and so was Jongin’s. But it shouldn’t have been. They shouldn’t have been amazed. The house should have remained the same.

Jongin used to hate coming home by himself for that very reason. Back then, whenever he touched this old wooden door, it didn’t pulse with life. It rattled on the hinge, the slightest of touches raising caution that it might fall off. His house was always ugly and worn to his touch. 

The rest of his family never walked in an abandoned-looking home. They walked through paradise, every time, a piece of which Jongin was only able to experience when he was with them.

The fact that Jongin could experience this paradise now for the first time was not something he was excited about. It only made the apprehension inside of him grow.

There was no more denying it. He knew with every fiber of his being that something terrible had happened. Something within him had changed.

## ***

Rustling was heard behind the door, of someone tripping over shoes and swearing.

With bated breath, Jongin waited, wondering which of his family’s members would be the first to see him in five years. Wondering which of his family members he would see first.

What would he even say? Would a hello cut it after all this time? How would they even respond to him? Would they be happy to see him? Angry at him? A million thoughts ran through Jongin’s brain. His hand shook from knocking, and he clenched and unclenched it. It wasn’t helping. Until Chanyeol grabbed it. And held it.

“Stop making me anxious.”

Jongin could hardly respond, mouth agape. His hand felt dwarfed within Chanyeol’s large paws. They were so rough and coarse and dry—he felt the skin of his own hand would tear. He so strongly wanted to jerk it away. This was too uncharacteristic. 

“Let go of me!” he hissed. “What are you—"

The door opened, and Jongin could see now that the stars and planets had aligned to conspire against him. Standing in the doorway, two heads shorter than both of them, was a kid whose biggest resemblance to Jongin was his mean-mugging, highly unimpressed, unturned nose. His eyes went straight to their locked hands, causing Jongin to pull on his slightly, but Chanyeol squeezed harder. No, this was not the first impression he wanted his younger brother to have of him after all these years.

Worse off, he wasn’t the first face Jongin had wanted to see either.

All the vile and resentment Jongin had sealed and packed away in boxes left in an upswept, dusty corner of his heart busted open, flooding him with too many unwanted memories of the past. Unable to contain himself any longer, Jongin spoke:

“Dongsookie. Been a while.”

“It’s Donghyuck. You should know that.”

“So, I should. What are you, twelve, now? You’ve grown up.”

Dongsookie was no longer the high-pitched, once adorable, angel-faced baby brother Jongin had given his room to. He was growing both in height and in ego, apparently; though he had always been particularly big-headed during his younger days as well. Like most of the members in their family, Donghyuck seemed to be growing tall and skinny, like corn stalks.

The only thing that hadn’t changed were his golden red eyes, a telltale sign of his innate affinity for the mystical arts. Needless to say, Dongsookie didn’t go to public school, either.

“People tend to do that. Some, at least.” After an unapproving onceover, Dongsookie directed his uncanny eyes, capable of unnerving any steely-eyed adult, to Chanyeol. “And? You are?”

“I’m 25.”

“Haha,” Donghyuck said, mirthlessly. “Your name.”

“Park Chanyeol.”

Donghyuck turned back to his brother.

“Who is he? To you.”

“He’s Chanyeol,” Jongin answered, “my roommate.”

“Right.” Donghyuck’ eyes flicked down between them again, pursing his lips disapprovingly.

“That’s—” Jongin finally yanked his hand free. “I told you to let go of me!”

Chanyeol shrugged. “It helped though.” 

Donghyuck grimaced. “Well.” He opened the door wider. “Come on in, I guess.”

Chanyeol stepped in first, and Jongin, exhaling slowly, entered after.

“Make yourself at home. Or do whatever, I don’t care.” Donghyuck yawned before shuffling off in his bear slippers. He was still wearing his pajamas, which were also bear-printed. Must be a Kim Family thing, Chanyeol noted.

Just outside the entryway, a framed family portrait caught his eye. The mother sat on a cushion holding a baby wrapped in red silk. Surrounding her were four girls of similar ages—two with identical appearances. Chanyeol’s finger hovered in front of a pouting boy who stood on the edge. “This is… very artistic. That you?”

Jongin walked off without a word.

## ***

Everything was exactly as Jongin remembered. From the thick black drapes which left each room bathed in the shimmering rays of the crystal lighting fixtures, to the red damask wallpaper that plastered the living and dining room walls. The furniture was still velvet—and in mint condition, no doubt the act of sorcery.

Of course, the 60’ flat screen TV hadn’t been there during his time, but for the most part, everything looked the same.

“I’m not changing the channel, so don’t ask,” Donghyuck said, slouched in the loveseat with his feet kicked up on the ottoman. A bowl of cereal—no milk—rested on his stomach, and he picked at it lazily. The family’s black cat, Thirteen, swiped at whatever he dropped. A commensalistic relationship. 

Jongin stood there, feeling like a fish out of water in his own childhood home. This was not what he was expecting. Save for the movie playing on the tv, the house was void of any other noises.

“Where’s Mom?” he asked.

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“I dunno. She’s running errands.” Donghyuck held up the remote and increased the volume. 

“Seriously? I’m trying to talk here.” 

Donghyuck shot him a look, eyes nearly glowing in the low lighting. “Yeah, dude,_ I know_. You’re interrupting my movie.”

“Well, this is more important than your movie. I need to speak to Mom. Do you know where she’s running errands at?”

“I dunno, Jongin! Somewhere! Many-_wheres_, I’m sure! She’s running er_rands_,” he groaned. “How am I supposed to know where she’s at _specifically_? If she used phones, I’d say just _call her,_ but we all know she doesn’t so the next best thing you can do, dude, is _shut up_ and _wait_. And leave me alone while you’re at it.”

Jongin rolled his eyes and spun right into Chanyeol’s chest. “Move,” he grumbled, circling around him. He needed some fresh air. Outside, he practiced some breathing exercises. Chanyeol was always doing them, he noticed. Maybe they worked. Eyes closed. Breathe in. Breathe out. Rinse and repeat.

He heard Chanyeol join him. His breathing was too loud for Jongin to focus on his own, so he gave it up. When he opened his eyes, however, he found Chanyeol staring at him. _Amused_. 

“Stop mocking me,” Jongin said, punching Chanyeol’s arm. It didn’t seem to faze him, though. 

“Your brother is…” 

“Annoying, right?”

“Actually, I was gonna say he’s just like you.” Chanyeol paused, reconsidering his thoughts under Jongin’s glare. “So…yeah, I guess he is a little bit annoying.”

Jongin shoved him harder, this time managing to make him take a step back. It was progress.

“Look at you, so violent,” Chanyeol said, touching his chest tenderly. “Who knew all it took to get under your skin was a twelve-year-old kid with creepy eyes and bad manners.”

“You’re annoying, too.” 

“You know,” Chanyeol said, switching topics, “With the way you’ve been acting, I was expecting a bigger welcoming party. Like, ‘the witches’.” If he was being honest, he was a tad bit disappointed. All they got was a hormonal kid in his PJs. Not much for memory.

“God, no. That would’ve been awful,” Jongin said. “I’m glad I’m the second youngest. No one lives at home except for that kid. I think I would go crazy if I had to deal with all four of my sisters right now.” Jongin laughed. “Yeah, I’d absolutely lose it.”

A fat raindrop splattered Jongin’s nose, and he frowned. There were no trees or a hanging roof above him where he stood, and the clouds didn’t look that dark.

“Do you hear that?” Chanyeol asked. “I think someone’s coming.”

“I don’t hear anything—” Jongin’s voice left him, and he suddenly lost feeling in his legs, falling back to the stairs. He gripped the railing for support as he squinted down the driveway. “I can’t believe it.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I—What are they—?"

Around the bend of trees emerged an inconspicuous black SUV creeping along the gravel road. Chanyeol kept looking between Jongin and the car.

“Who is that? Jongin?”

“No. No. No. No.” Jongin hoisted himself up. “I’m fine!” 

The car honked. Twice.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” he repeated over again while he stretched his lips into a smile.

“You’re making me uncomfortable.”

“You asked for a bigger welcoming party, didn’t you?” Jongin chuckled, trailing off. “Better late than never, I suppose.”

“What?”

“Hold my hand.”

“_Huh_?”

“Hold my hand!” Jongin demanded.

Slowly, Chanyeol grabbed his hand, and Jongin laced their fingers together. Definitely an uncomfortable moment. This was _too _uncharacteristic.

Through gritted teeth, Jongin said: “Now. Smile. And. Wave.” 

Three doors on the SUV opened at once, (the remaining one slow to follow,) and a harmonious “JONGIN!” rang out.

“Here’s what you wanted,” Jongin said, squeezing Chanyeol’s hand tighter than ever. “Meet my sisters. AKA ‘the witches’.”

## ***

Chanyeol was going to need a Kim Sisters crash course. Jongin made a mental note to give him one later. In the meantime, he would have to do his best to stay afloat and wade through the waters himself.

“Nini! I can’t believe it!” Seulgi sprinted from the car first and nearly took Jongin’s ribcage out with the way she dove into him to hug him. “You got taller!”

“And your hair got shorter?” Jongin noted, ruffling the curled hairs of her mohawk.

“Yeah, it’s a new style! Well, a few years old now, but still new to you! Like it?”

“It’s… different.”

Jongin was ready to introduce Chanyeol when Seulgi faced him with an accusatory yet playful glare. “Who are you, and how are you responsible for bringing my baby brother home?”

“I’m—”

“Nini-bear! Our baby brother is back!” Next came Joy clicking up the gravel in her red heels and matching Birkin bag swinging on her elbow. She pulled Jongin into a hug and rocked him back and forth until he was seasick. Then she held him at bay, as if on the verge of tears. “Welcome home, Nini,” she hiccupped, never one to forgo the theatrics. Then, she pushed him to the side.

“And you brought one of your cute friends, I see,” she cooed, expertly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She extended her free hand gracefully. “Kim Joy. Jongin’s older sister—or younger, whichever better suits your taste. And you are?”

“Chanyeol. It’s a pleasure to—”

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Chan~yeol, believe that!” Joy giggled. “Call me greedy, if you will.”

“Here she goes again!” Seulgi gagged. Jongin was right with her, prying his sister’s hand away from Chanyeol before she decided to eat him alive.

“Sorry, Joy , but don’t press your luck. He’s…” Jongin exchanged a glance with Chanyeol and smiled deviously before finishing, “Gay. A total fruitcake.”

Joy gasped melodramatically. Covering her face with her perfectly manicured hands in shame, she squeezed her way between them to get inside the house, though not before whispering an apology to Chanyeol (and coping a regretful feel of his arm.)

“You’re such an ass for that, Nini!” Seulgi guffawed, swiping at Jongin’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t call people that even if they are your friends!”

“Yeah, Nini,” Chanyeol agreed, elbowing Jongin in his rib before another _ha _could escape. Jongin cringed at Chanyeol’s use of his family’s nickname, but was too winded to fire a retort.

“I have to use the bathroom,” Seulgi announced suddenly. “You can call me Seulgi, by the way! Bye!”

The next sister up was Irene, who greeted Jongin with a smile hidden behind a case of water bottles.

“Sorry about those two! I hope they didn’t give you a bad impression of us.”

“No, of course not,” Chanyeol assured, moving quickly to take the water from her.

“Oh, no need!” She turned away, indirectly revealing the bulging muscles of her arms left on display by her sleeveless sweatshirt. “There’s a ton of groceries in the trunk still, though, if you really want—"

Chanyeol was halfway there. By the time she had returned empty-handed, Chanyeol was back at the steps, a dozen bags straining his muscles, asking where to go. She led him to the kitchen with a bounce in her step.

“Do you need help putting them up?” Chanyeol offered, already emptying bags of cans on the counter.

Irene laughed and nudged her brother. “He’s so well-mannered, Nini. Where did you find him?”

“It’s all an act,” Jongin warned, scowling as he watched Chanyeol move around their kitchen like an obedient puppy. “Don’t fall for it.”

“Act or not, he’s more useful than you,” Irene quipped, slapping his leg for sitting on the counter and putting him to work.

“That’s a Gold’s Gym sweater,” Chanyeol observed, talking to Irene , “You work out?”

“Religiously!” Irene chimed, setting the two of them off over their shared love for dirty gym floors and sweat. 

_Aww, they were bonding_. Jongin tuned them out and instead channeled all of his energy into nitpicking and reorganizing the cabinets Chanyeol had last touched just to spite him. He was only half-invested in defending himself, so Jongin lost interest in correcting him after a short while.

With the three of them helping, they were able to get the groceries all sorted and put away relatively quickly. “Wow, that took no time at all. Thanks a lot, Chanyeol! Can we keep you?”

Chanyeol laughed, and Jongin mimicked her silently. Of course, Irene caught him.

“Are you brooding, Nini?” She laughed, tapping his shoulder. “I think these ones are done, but thanks, though.” She closed the cabinets just as he was about to organize the cans in alphabetical order and guided him out of the kitchen. Making sure Chanyeol was out of ear’s reach, she leaned close and whispered, “I really like this one, Nini. Good job!” She squeezed his shoulders and walked away, unaware of her brother’s confusion.

Chanyeol was at his side shortly after, doing his worst to suppress his smile.

“You’re having fun,” Jongin muttered.

“A little,” Chanyeol responded, unfazed by his moodiness. “Hey, aren’t you missing a sister, though? I mean, there were like four in the picture I saw.”

“Oh, you’re talking about Yerim,” Seulgi said, popping up out of nowhere, enough to make Chanyeol startle a little. Jongin was used to her sporadic appearances by now. “She’s a bit of a wallflower.”

“That’s an understatement,” said Joy, waltzing over, a glass of bubbling champagne in hand. It was hardly noon. “That girl runs from social interaction like a stressed man’s hairline runs from his forehead.”

Seulgi hummed. “Yup, you can usually find her in the treehouse outback, though.” She covered the side of her mouth and lowered her voice, “To be honest, I don’t think she’s meant to live among humans.”

Jongin blinked and he eyed Chanyeol for a reaction. His face was void of surprise, as neutral as ever. 

Go figure.

“I just think she’s very free-spirited,” Seulgi continued, “Meant to live off the grid, in mountain forests and stuff. Like a hermit, you know.”

Chanyeol nodded as if he did.

Joy giggled. “Seulgi, no one has a clue about what you’re rambling on about. How many times do I have to tell you that no one knows what goes on inside that questionably shaved head of yours?”

“Hey!” yelped Seulgi, prompting her to go back and forth with Joy over the flaws of both their appearances. Seulgi’s roguish stylistic choices versus Joy's flamboyant exorbitant fits.

“They could argue all day,” Jongin said, nudging Chanyeol. “Can you tell they’re twins?”

“Are you guys really showing out in front of our guest like that?” chastised Irene, bouncing into the room with a silver hatchet in tow.

Jongin’s eyes zeroed in on it, but a quick glance at Chanyeol told him that he must have thought that this was also apparently normal for their family because again, his face was void of any expression. Jongin wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“I thought I overheard you guys talking about outside, and it got my antsy,” Irene said, twirling the sharp tool like a pen. “Anyone up for a stroll in the woods?”

Maybe it was just his imagination, but Jongin was sure he saw Irene give his sisters a look, but it happened so quickly that he immediately wondered if he’d made it up in his head. But there was no way. Even if his mind was playing tricks on him, he was almost certain he’d felt the energy in the room shift, at the very least. But what it all meant, he didn’t know.

Seulgi squealed. “Ooh, me! Let me go grab my camera!”

Joy answered by toasting her drink to the air and knocking half of the glass back. “I better change my shoes then.”

Irene smiled at Jongin and Chanyeol. The hatchet glimmered. “You guys up for it?”

“I’m down,” Chanyeol agreed as Jongin was saying, “We’re good.” He looked at Chanyeol, feeling scandalized for agreeing without consulting him first, before explaining, “Actually, we were kind of waiting for Mom to come home.”

“Oh?” Irene tapped her chin with the base of the hatchet. “Donghyuck? Where’s Mom?”

“Still out!” echoed his voice, irritation not as prominent as it was with Jongin.

“Just come out with us in the meantime, Nini!” Irene said. “There’s no point in sitting around and doing nothing.”

“But I just think—”

“Jongin, let’s just go,” Chanyeol said, squeezing his shoulder. “I’ve been in the car for three hours. My legs could use the stretch.”

Jongin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Now would’ve been a perfectly good time for Chanyeol to pick up on the fact that Jongin didn’t _feel right _about this at all! Truly useless. 

“It’s really cold,” Jongin said pitifully, his last resort. 

Chanyeol unzipped his jacket and handed it over. “Here, that should keep you warm.”

“Um.” Jongin felt like a heavy weight had been handed to him. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” 

Somehow, Jongin doubted that. Chanyeol was only wearing a long-sleeve shirt, and it looked too thin to preserve any kind of body heat. But more importantly, why was he ruining Jongin’s plan?

“So, it’s settled!” Irene swung her hatchet up and yelled, “Backyard in two minutes!” around the house before heading out first.

“I hate you,” Jongin said.

“Just hush. Put on the jacket.”

Jongin did. Admittedly, it gave him the additional warmth he’d needed since coming to this godforsaken town, but he had to ignore the reality of where most of the heat had come from. Granted, that wasn’t too hard to do.

Just as they were all leaving out the backdoor in the kitchen, Donghyuck padded into the kitchen. Chanyeol paused before he shut the door behind him. “You coming, too?”

“Nope. Just wanted to see you all off.” Donghyuck smirked and gave heartless wave. “Nice meeting you,” was the last thing Chanyeol heard before the door shut.

## ***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew... well first and foremost, happy new year everyone! hope you had a wonderful holiday szn. as relaxing as it was for me to be on break, i have found i am more productive when i am, in fact, busy and not surrounded by family hehee
> 
> but ANYWAYS, you don't know what hell i went through w/ this chapter! it's seriously been through like a dozen revisions XD i think the hardest thing was forcing myself to actually write descriptive scenery, figure out how to keep a car ride not completely boring, and introduce a buttload of new characters all at once.... which was pretty much the entire chapter so...yeah, it really pushed me to my limits lmfao i swear writing this story is like an ongoing battle, but i'm having a lot of fun!! this is my baby after all <3
> 
> as per usual, to my beautiful new readers and my favorite familiar ones, please do feel free to react in the comments down below so that i feel slightly validated :) i love to hear from you! ALSO, if you really like the story, share w/ a friend that might, too! anyways, stay safe, much love!!
> 
> (P.S. if smth is ever confusing, plz let me know, i will correct ASAP! thx~)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You and Nini? How long has it been?”
> 
> “Since…?” Chanyeol paused. Oh, since they’ve known each other. Right. He imagined it must have been pretty strange to see their brother show up after all these years with a stranger in tow. “Since the spring? May, I think.”
> 
> Seulgi giggled, elbowing Joy so hard she jerked into Chanyeol. “See, I was closer than you. They’re obviously still in their honeymoon phase.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...................hi lol......
> 
> Notice [3/3/2020]: I've decided to just use Red Velvet's stage names since they're easier for me to keep track of (and look better in my manuscript personally). I hope that isn't too jarring for anyone, but if it is, I'm happy to revert.

Jongin told himself that there wasn’t anything to worry about. That his sisters weren’t being suspicious, and that a harmless invitation to go walking in the backwoods was most definitely _ not _ a cause for concern.

Maybe he had imagined it. After all, other than that initial moment, he hadn’t detected anything else that was strange about them since then.

That is to say, nothing _terribly_ _strange_. The Kim Family had always been infamously known for their kooky and peculiar ways.

Still, Jongin kept a close eye on them as he crept behind the group. He made sure to dig his heels in the ground, leaving freshly upturned dirt impressions should he or Chanyeol go missing. Just in case.

Thankfully, there were no red flags thus far.

Joy clung to Chanyeol’s arm while Seulgi pranced fairy circles around them, mouth running like a broken faucet. Although Jongin caught Chanyeol’s silent pleas for help, he refused. This is what Chanyeol got for bringing them out here. Deserve.

Up ahead, Irene led the pack quietly, twirling her silver hatchet. Jongin wasn’t sure how often any of them visited anymore, but it seemed Irene had gotten quite accustomed to these woods. The tall evergreens all looked the same to Jongin, but the case was obviously different for Irene, turning before the path turned (not that he could make one out) and ducking before the branches dipped.

Even after all these years, his sisters hadn’t changed _ much _. Drastic visual makeovers aside, they still retained the core characteristics of their personalities that Jongin remembered.

Joy, _the_ _pretty one_. Her appearance came first and foremost, then her insatiable desire for the wealthy and good-looking men. Desired by many of his schoolmates in the latter years of his schooling, Jongin remembered several guys approaching him just to find out information about his older sister. He didn’t bother supplying them, knowing the guys that they were competing with weren’t in the same tax bracket, let alone age range. If anyone had been guaranteed to leave their small town, it was Joy. Jongin guessed everyone followed after her footsteps.

Seulgi certainly had. Seulgi _the_ _spunky one_, with more energy than her little body could contain at times. She did everything she set her heart to, but her capricious nature kept her interest and hobbies on constant rotation. It wasn’t until Joy had started packing her things in their shared room that Seulgi’s demeanor changed. She, too, decided to pack up her things—without any clear destination in sight. She would gain experiences from her travels and pick up new things along the way—hairstyles included. She may have described Yerim as the free-spirited one, but Seulgi was definitely the wandering soul.

Speaking of which, Jongin hadn’t laid eyes on Yerim yet—and he knew she was in the car with his sisters when they first arrived. The fact that she had been quietly missing this entire time surprised no one. Ever _ the wallflower _, Yerim was never one for crowds. Ironically enough, it wasn't the oldest child Irene, boy-crazy Joy, or adrenaline junkie Seulgi that was the first to sneak out of the house. It was Yerim. No one knew where she would go, but after growing tired of waking up to a panic over an empty bed and an open window, Irene suggested they build a place outside for her to go. Hence, the treehouse was born. A great oak was grown from magic, and the house built by weary-eyed contractors who marveled at how an acorn found its way so deep in the pine-dominated Misticove.

Irene had a lot of influence in their lives. When their mom wasn’t around—which was often—she watched over them. No, she wasn’t put in charge—she _ took _ charge. It was simply in her nature to instruct, command, and discipline—if need be. What she said was law. Seldom was it challenged.

As if she heard his thoughts, Irene glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

“Where are we going?” Jongin called after her. When he received no answer, he sped up, passing his sisters harassing Chanyeol, until he was at the same pace. “Answer my question.”

“You first,” Irene said, “Are you happy to be back home?”

“Sure, yeah, I guess. Now, can you answer my question?”

“Don’t worry, Nini,” Irene said. “Everything will be over with soon.”

Jongin frowned. “Huh? What does that mean?”

Seulgi’s shouting caught their attention and they both turned, eyeing the three inquisitively. Chanyeol, focused on Jongin solely, blinked, feigning innocence. His sisters, however, were looking at Irene in that same way from before that Jongin could only describe as… fishy.

He knew it. He hadn’t been overreacting. His sisters _ were _ scheming.

But scheming what?

Irene whispered something that was lost beneath the howl of the wind.

“What did you say?” Jongin turned towards her and she tapped his forehead.

“** _Drift_ **.”

A heavy weight gripped Jongin’s head and titled it back as his body filled with a lightness that was eerily reminiscent of floating.

“Uh, what is happening?” he cried. “I-Irene!” He craned his head to the side to confirm his fleeting suspicion. Yes, his feet had lifted from the solid earth. Yes, he was floating mid-air. “Hey! Help me! I’m floating away!”

The tops of the scraggly trees and the gray sky didn’t seem so far away now, regardless of how slow he was actually rising. It was like the powers of the universe had hand chosen him specifically and were plucking him to the golden gates that lay beyond, except they had forgotten to cure his fear of heights. Nothing about this was rapturous like he’d been told.

“Don’t panic, Jongin. You’re safer up there.” That was Irene’s voice, firm and steady like the earth she was still bound to.

“SAFE?” Jongin flailed. “I’m like a hundred feet off the ground!” He wasn’t, but he could barely see the tops of their heads out of the corner of his vision at his height. Excuse him for not being rational with his general estimates. “What did you do? I don’t care, just undo it! Undo it right freakin’ now!”

“Now, Mr. Park,” he heard Irene say, “Why don’t you reveal why you’re really here?” Jongin heard the distinct slapping of solid silver against his sister’s palm, and his eyes bulged as he realized what was happening.

“What are you doing to him? Leave Chanyeol alone! Put me down!”

A whispered “** _Hush_ **” swept through the trees, and it was the last thing Jongin heard as silence engulfed him whole. No longer could he hear the wind rustling through the needle trees, although he felt it course over his skin. And no longer could he hear his screams, although he felt his throat burning raw. It was like he was caught within a vacuum in space. A prisoner sentenced to silence. Forever.

##  *******

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Jongin was hesitant to go out in the woods with his sisters, but Chanyeol would be a bigger idiot than his roomie was if he radiated suspicion, too. Of course, something strange was going on! No doubt about it.

The biggest indicator was the silver hatchet. _ Silver. _ The sight of it alone unnerved him, though he was sure he hid his surprise well. Even with half the DNA of a werewolf, Chanyeol was aptly aware of the dangers of _ silver _.

And then there was, of course, Jongin’s brother’s ominous send off. A dead giveaway. He’d be a fool if he ignored the wrong way it rubbed him.

And Park Chanyeol was no fool. He wouldn’t be the one to jump the gun. He’d play along.

But if they wanted to find out what the jig was, they would never get the opportunity if they gave themselves away too soon. So, being the master strategist he was, Chanyeol played the fool. He pretended that Jongin was being fussy about the weather and offered him his jacket to shut him up so they could go forth.

Gosh, was he smart. What would Jongin do without him and his big brain to guide him the way?

The backwoods of the Kim estate were inhabited by aged pine trees, whose prickly hair shed pine needles across the forest floor. Who knew how many layers they were walking on? With the mist that coiled around their feet, it was impossible to tell. He was treading carefully because of it, but he seemed to be the only one concerned.

As he focused on walking on solid, even ground, everyone else was in their own little worlds.

Joy hung off his arm with Seulgi twirling and criculing them over and over like a ballerina-in-training. She hadn’t stopped talking since they entered the forest, to which Joy admonished to no avail. 

Chanyeol kept checking on Jongin who was stumping behind them, waiting for him to catch up, but he only sent a pointed look in return. If the faint feeling of betrayal that lingered in Chanyeol’s mind was to be trusted, Jongin was still peeved over being disregarded. 

He eventually picked up his pace, but it was only to talk with Irene. Chanyeol sighed.

“You’re really gonna make us guess?”

Chanyeol was suddenly aware that he was being spoken too. “Huh?”

“Hmm. Only a few years?” Joy probed.

“No, it’s only been a few weeks. Tops,” suggested Seulgi. For what, Chanyeol didn’t know.

“What has?” he asked.

“You and Nini? How long has it been?”

“Since…?” Chanyeol paused. Oh, since they’ve known each other. Right. He imagined it must have been pretty strange to see their brother show up after all these years with a stranger in tow. “Since the spring? May, I think.”

Seulgi giggled, elbowing Joy so hard she jerked into Chanyeol. “See, I was closer than you. They’re obviously still in their honeymoon phase.”

Chanyeol tripped over a hidden branch. “Our what now?”

“You’ve never heard of it?” Joy asked, curiously.

Seulgi jumped in to explain. “It’s when couples—”

“—A couple of what?—”

“—are so infatuated that they can’t get enough of each other in the early phase of their relationship.”

“Relationship?” Looking between the two smug sisters, Chanyeol realized what they were talking about. “Oh. _ Oh _. Me and Jongin? Oh no. We’re not—” He cleared his throat. “ No, we’re not—”

“Yeah no, you can’t even deny it!” Seulgi said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “It’s written _ all _ over your face. You’re _ definitely _ honeymooning. Hard.”

“What—"

“Look at him, Seulgi,” Joy interjected, “He has no clue what you’re rambling on about.” She gave him a pitying smile, and Chanyeol almost felt relieved that she had understood the misunderstanding. “He obviously needs examples, otherwise he’ll never get it.”

Chanyeol felt defeated.

“Oh, I get it!” Seulgi said, tapping her chin. “So, like, _ for example: _ you wanting Jongin to be near you everywhere you go is a part of the honeymoon phase. It’s like you feel empty without him close.”

Chanyeol covered his mouth, holding back a ridiculous laugh. That couldn’t be further from the truth. If he had a choice, he would be as far away from Jongin as he possibly could. It was _ his _ fault they were stuck together,and here in the first place! “No, that’s _ definitely _ not true,” he said, confidently. 

“Sure, it is,” Seulgi insisted. “Your puppy dog eyes follow him everywhere he goes. When he went ahead after Irene just now, you looked like you wanted to pull him back and hold him close!”

Chanyeol shook his head. That was only because leaving a friend with your family members was ultimately a shitty thing to do. Not that he considered Jongin a friend. Regardless, the logic still applied. It was universal!

“And I saw you guys holding hands earlier!” Seulgi said suddenly.

Chanyeol opened his mouth to defend himself, then closed it. Saying it was only to help Jongin calm down because his nervousness was making him uncomfortable wouldn’t exactly help his case, would it? 

Ugh, there was just no feasible excuse to get himself out of the situation without bringing up their sticky situation. If he could just say, “It’s only because of the imprint that we’re even here together,” then maybe they would both go “Oooooh,” and pat his back, sympathizing with the nightmare that being stuck with Kim Jongin was. Surely, they would know how annoying he could be. He was their brother, after all.

“There’s no need to be shy about it.” Joy squeezed his arm lightly. “It really is common.”

“Natural!” Seulgi chirped.

Fuck, did everything suck. Domed if he spoke. Doomed if he didn’t.

“If it makes you feel better, Nini’s way more obvious about it than you are.”

Chanyeol frowned. “He is?”

“He definitely has it worse.”

“He does?”

“_ The worst _!” Seulgi shouted, prompting both Irene and Jongin to turn around with inquisitive glances. The three of them smiled innocently. Jongin narrowed his eyes at Chanyeol before turning around and continuing his conversation with her sister. In a much lower voice, Seulgi snickered, “Yeah, I wonder why that is.”

There was something in the way that she had said it. Her tone wasn’t so insightful as it was… full of suspicion? Before he could really focus on it, a spike of panic that wasn’t his stopped him dead in his tracks. And then, he realized why.

Jongin was floating off the ground, and he was freaking out. Understandably.

Joy tightened her grip as she leaned into Chanyeol’s arm. Her eyes were no longer glazed over with bubbles of champagne, but sharp and piercing. The corners of the red-painted lips were pursed deviously.

Seulgi’s twirling had ceased. Now, she stood behind him, cutting off his escape route. Not that he could just leave Jongin anyhow.

What was going on?

“Don’t panic, Jongin. You’re safer up there,” Irene told him, staring directly at Chanyeol as she did so. 

“SAFE?” Jongin hollered, proceeding to yell exactly why he wasn’t a fan of her claim. While Jongin continued to shout, Irene began tapping the hatchet against her hand. “Now, Mr. Park. Why don’t you reveal why you’re really here?”

“What are you doing to him? Leave Chanyeol alone! Put me down!” Jongin writhed against his invisible binding, begging for his sister to get a grip, and Chanyeol was hoping that she would listen! But the only thing he heard in response from her was a ghostly “**Hush**”. The echo blew through the forest on a gusty tailwind, flinging pine needles everywhere. Jongin’s screams were abruptly silenced along with the natural sounds of the forest, although Chanyeol could see his throat straining to make noise. 

So, this was the power of magic?

“Finally. Some peace and quiet,” Joy simpered. “I was growing tired of his whining.”

Behind him, Seulgi laughed, and if the circumstances were different, mayhaps Chanyeol would have, too. He would have loved to joke with someone that knew Jongin about his petulance, but with him in hysterics right above their heads, he just felt annoyed. 

Chanyeol kept his breathing even, reminding himself that he was prepared for this. He wouldn’t let himself be intimidated by fancy tricks or the fact that he was outnumbered.

The first thing he needed to do was assess the situation. He was surrounded by three witches with unknown abilities, but the most immediate threat was arguably the silver hatchet Irene had. Despite her standing over two dozen feet away, with Joy’s iron grip on his arm, he would give Irene the benefit of the doubt that she would confidently hit wherever she aimed.

His biggest question at the moment was whether the choice of weapon was deliberate, though he prayed it wasn’t. If so, then that meant they had somehow figured out he was a werewolf. If not, then, he was just as big of a mystery to them as they were to him. 

“What is this?” he asked simply. A good solid start.

“You tell us!” Seulgi shouted. “You’re on _ our _property now.”

“That’s right,” Joy said lowly into his ear. “If anything were to happen to you here… Well, let’s just say no one would come looking.”

Chanyeol huffed. “So, everything you were saying just now… It was all for what?”

“Please,” Joy scoffed, “don’t tell me you believed one second of it.”

“We were bored, and tryna get you to lower your guard,” Seulgi said.

“And clearly, it worked,” Joy finished.

“Who are you?” Irene called across the clearing she’d led them to. “Who are you really?”

“I already told you,” Chanyeol replied. “My name is Park Chanyeol. I’m Jongin’s roommate.”

“Oh, but you’re so much more than simply Jongin’s roomie, aren’t you.?” Joy inquired. “I mean, come on. Nini here’ floating right above us and yet… you seem hardly fazed.”

“Sounds suspicious, if you ask me,” Seulgi said, moving close behind him.

“There’s only two explanations I can think of,” Irene said as she came to a stop in front of him, raising her hatchet. “He’s either dumb—" With the blade’s edge, she lifted his chin “—or one of us.”

“So, Chanyeol,” Joy purred. “Which one is it?”

He was sandwiched between the girls, but all he could think about was how Jongin would be sore tomorrow from all his thrashing around in the air. 

“I’m...” Chanyeol paused to swallow, feeling the silvered edge ride the motions of his throat, “a bit embarrassed, quite frankly. And here I thought I was making a good first impression?”

Irene chuckled. “You were. But something lurks beneath the surface.” She applied the faintest pressure to his throat, enough to break skin. Instantly, Chanyeol felt the sting and the beginnings of the blister forming. His jaw clenched, and he shut his eyes. This was painful enough as a half-breed, he couldn’t imagine what it was like for a full werewolf.

“Well, this reveals a lot,” Irene said, gathering all the information she needed from the metal frying his skin. 

“Woah, look at it go,” Seulgi commented, craning her neck over his shoulder just to get a better look. The tiny red beads sizzled until they evaporated away.

Joy leaned closer, inhaling. “I love this smell.”

_ There _, fucking finally, Chanyeol could feel it again, waiting. Growling. It sensed the danger. It felt the threat. And now, it was angry. 

Good. 

Chanyeol teased it by flickering his mental shields. The beast took the bait without fuss and charged. Chanyeol weakened his shields momentarily, just enough for some of the beast’s energy from the momentum of its impact to carry through.

He snapped his eyes open, feeling the edges burn hot, and Irene let out a startled squawk as her last breath escaped her. The hatchet thudded to the ground, and she stood stiff, like the trees around them.

“What did you do?” Joy shouted. Both she and Seulgi had jumped back at the exact same moment he stunned Irene, so Chanyeol deduced they could only sense the beast’s presence when it showed through. It was clear the silver hatchet was just a precaution, meaning that he was right about them not knowing what he was capable of either. Well, now, they had a hint.

“She’s fine,” Chanyeol said calmly. He reached for Irene as Seulgi screamed, “Don’t touch her!” and gave the short-haired girl a strange look before pulling Irene’s scarf. He grabbed the hatchet with it, and as soon as he moved away from her, the two sisters rushed in.

Upon contact from Joy, Chanyeol noted, the paralysis broke, and Irene gasped for air, sinking into her sister’s arms. At the same time, a hoarse yelp sounded from above.

Jongin was falling.

Chanyeol moved quickly, tossing the hatchet and catching Jongin in his arms. Jongin, still panicking, swatted him in the face and Chanyeol fell back with a guttural grunt.

“What the fuck!” Jongin scrambled to sit up. He must have never stopped screaming because his voice sounded beaten up and bruised, barely above a whisper. It pained Chanyeol to hear it, so he covered his mouth, and mumbled for him to shut up. Jongin beat on his arm and pried it away. He stumbled to stand and distanced himself from all of them. “What the fuck is going on!”

“What did he say?” Seulgi asked, rising defensively, while Joy rubbed soothing circles on Irene’s back behind her.

“He said, ‘What the fuck is going on?’” Chanyeol touched the blistering skin on his neck tenderly. “Hell, I, too, would like to know.” He found the discarded scarf-wrapped hatchet and tossed it to Jongin, who almost lost a foot fumbling it. “Keep that away from your sisters, got it?”

“Nini, put that down! You’re gonna hurt yourself!” came Irene’s voice, uncharacteristically sisterly given what had just transpired. With Joy’s help, she was able to stand. Clearly, the paralysis had shaken her up a bit—like it had with Jongin—but she was recovering quickly, or at least steeling her face to appear like so.

Jongin brandished the hatchet in spite of her concern. “Tell me what the hell is going on! Why were you attacking Chanyeol, are you nuts?”

Jongin’s hoarse voice could hardly be heard over the wind and the surrinating trees that had returned, so Chanyeol translated it for him, adding extra emphasis on the last bit because he, too, was especially curious.

“We were only trying to save you, Nini!” Joy explained.

“That man—whoever he really is—has a powerful tether attaching your soul to his!” Irene shouted. “You can’t tell because you can do magic, but it’s dangerous!”

“It’s influencing you!” Seulgi added. “Whatever he wants from us by forcing you to come back home, he’s not gonna get it!”

Chanyeol frowned. Jongin did, too. What the heck were they talking about?

“There’s no way you could even understand just how powerful this tether is,” Irene went on, “It’s affecting you and the way you think. Taking away your autonomy and willpower. Making you nothing more than his puppet. It’s molding you into someone else… Changing you into _ something _else.”

“Yeah, our baby brother Nini would never say the word ‘_ fuck _’,” Seulgi said, matter of factly.

Joy nodded. “It’s just so vulgar! So crude! _ So _ not Nini!” 

Jongin opened his mouth to retort, but then stopped to consider it. They were right. He was more of a _ damn _ guy, and the occasional _ shit _ guy in dire times. Since when had he become a _ fuck _ guy? That was more of a Chanyeol thing, wasn’t it? He _ was _cruder and more unrefined, wasn’t he? 

Wait, how would Jongin know? He barely knew the guy. And the reason he was saying _ fuck _ so much wasn’t because Chanyeol was brainwashing him, it was because he was seriously freaked out! Floating in the air? Stuck in silence? Hello? It was a miracle he hadn’t lost his mind in that hell space.

“You guys are out of your mind!” Jongin shouted, to which Chanyeol was told to repeat louder for him. “I’m not a fucking puppet! Chanyeol isn’t controlling me! And I’m only saying _ fuck _ so much because I’m _ pissed _ you put me in a fucking space vacuum! Which totally freaked me the fuck out, by the way! Like, what the actual fuck? The only sound I could hear came from my organs working! I almost threw up!”

Jongin was heaving by the time he finished, and yet… neither of his sisters had heard a thing.

Cupping the side of her face, Joy sheepishly whisper-shouted, “What did he say? We didn’t catch any of that.” 

“Basically,” Chanyeol said, breathing deeply because truth be told, he hadn't caught half of that either. He was still used to automatically tuning out Jongin’s rambling that it sort of just happened automatically. Oops. How could he sum it up effectively? “He’s not dumb,” Chanyeol said, having found the easiest way to do so. “He’s one of you.”

All three witches frowned.

“One of us?” Seulgi turned to her sisters. “What does that mean?”

Joy shrugged.

Irene shook her head. “No, that can’t mean…” 

“It does,” fluttered the voice of another person. “Jongin is a witch. Like us.”

Her feet met the ground gently, the large blue wings at her back shimmering and refracting light. She was noticeably short, even from a distance, with hair braided into three long braids that almost swept the pine-needled floor.

The hatchet dropped again, and Jongin whispered something that nobody needed repeated.

_ Yerim. _

“Welcome back home, Nini!” Yerim curtseyed. A butterfly lifted off her finger and she waved.

##  *******

Yerim snapped her fingers, and her wings dispersed into hundreds of butterflies, fluttering around her in a glittering vortex before scattering outwards. The tiny little creatures spread about, flashing when they landed. Teal blue light sunk into their skin in gentle pulses.

“Yerim?” Jongin said clearly. He touched his throat amazed. The butterflies must have had healing properties. He realized he hadn’t felt as confused and irritated as he had a moment prior. And his sisters were noticeably less defensive, too. Woah, so, magic could do this, too?

“I’m quite pleased to see you after all these years,” Yerim said. Her voice was like wind chimes, soft and delicate and enchanting; and with her arms opened wide, Jongin felt himself moving towards her as if he was compelled. “Did you grow a little?”

“It’s nice to see you, too, sis,” Jongin said. Even though he dwarfed her completely when they hugged, it was him who felt like a child again. Suddenly, he was reminded of her comforting touches when his stomach ached. Of times where she sat and listened to him talk endlessly about whatever topics that had interested him in school when no one else in the house would. Of sweet, nostalgic memories. Not that he hadn’t had any with his other three sisters, but Yerim… she had always been _ different. _

Yerim and Jongin were closest in age—only two years apart—and the primary thing they had bonded over was their shared experiences that came from being loners and outsiders. In a sense, Yerim would probably say she felt closest to Jongin if anyone were to ask, but due to her transient disposition, she wasn’t exactly the most consistent character in his life for him to say the same. Still, her presence had always comforted him.

“What’re you doing here, Yerim?” Seulgi asked. “_ Where have you been?” _often seemed more appropriate, but Yerim’s reflexive answer to that had always been “Around”, so it was best to skip that and move onto question number two.

“I was curious as to who or what exactly was responsible for the disturbance of the natural world.” She regarded her sisters—although Irene especially—with a sharp, disapproving look, adding, “Nature doesn’t take kindly to being _ silenced. _You should know that.”

Irene crossed her arms. “I had good intentions. And it was only temporary, anyhow.”

“And what about the ripple? The aftereffects?”

Irene laughed. “An archaic, unproven theory,”

“And neither _ disproved _, sister,” Yerim countered.

Jongin saw Joy roll her eyes and mutter something to Seulgi. Apparently, this wasn’t the first time the conversation had happened, and if his memory served right, he could verify. If Jongin and Donghyuck were removed from the picture, the age-old saying that the youngest and the oldest fought the most would ring true. Irene, the any-means-necessary arbiter versus Yerim, the gatekeeper of Mother Earth.

“Okay, I think we all know where this is going,” Seulgi interjected. “Why don’t we save our theses on magic theory for another day.”

Yerim hummed. “Yes, there are more important matters at hand. Besides, I’ve been terribly rude to our guest.” Her eyes fluttered over to the man standing awkwardly by his lonesome, acknowledging Chanyeol properly for the first time. Jongin hadn’t realized how quiet he had been, but upon turning his attention towards him, along with everyone else, Chanyeol’s bewitched expression made him frown.

“And you are?” Yerim beckoned.

“Park Chanyeol. Jongin’s roommate. I’m a werewolf. Half, I mean,” Chanyeol said, ghosting over to where she and Jongin stood.

Joy and Seulgi gasped. Jongin was almost right with them. Why had he added that? He was oversharing!

“I can see that,” she said, gesturing at her neck. Like a mirror, Chanyeol raised his hand to his own, tracing over the blistered skin leftover from the small cut. “I apologize. My mariposas do not have much effect on wounds branded by silver.” With the pads of her glowing fingers, she traced over his injury. “Does it still burn?”

“Not anymore.” Chanyeol sounded dazed when he spoke, a lazy smile hanging off the corner of his lips. “It’s better, thank you.”

They were standing awfully close.

Jongin cleared his throat and inserted himself in between them. “Yes, it looks much better, now. Thank you so much, Yerim,” Jongin said, looking over the magical handiwork with a critical gaze. Chanyeol rolled his eyes and turned away, putting a more appropriate amount of space between him and Jongin’s sister. Yes, much better.

“Brandishing that silver around like a key on a lanyard. Attacking an unarmed man.” Yerim listed their actions like offenses. “You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

“A werewolf’s body _ is _their weapon, and he sure utilized it,” Irene said, a bit spitefully. Jongin saw Chanyeol stiffen, doing that thing with his jaw he did when he was irritated. So much for having bonded over working out.

“After your unjustified aggression?” Yerim pointed out. “And is the magic that flows through our veins not a weapon in and of itself? I’m sure Jongin can attest to _ your _ skilled utilization of it.” As right as Yerim was, Jongin felt like cringing. Yes, he sided with her mysterious sister, but at the same time, there was an unspoken Kim Family rule to not get involved in the middle of any Irene and Yerim conflict.

“This wasn’t a fair fight to begin with,” Seulgi said, immediately throwing their unspoken Kim Family rule out to the breeze. “When you mess with family, everything goes. Surely, you can sense the tether he has on Jongin’s soul? And this stranger came to our home, motive unknown! What kind of sisters would we be if we didn’t do everything in our power to save our brother?”

Joy seemed like she hadn’t wanted to intrude upon their unspoken rule, but Seulgi’s disregard of ig meant she no longer had an obligation either. So, she hopped in, too. “We didn’t know what we were with. Who we were up against,” she began, “So, we were just taking necessary precautions to protect our brother. You know Jongin’s always been helpless against these kinds of things.”

The last bit was true, though Jongin’s understanding on just how he had been protected by his witch sisters had always been severely understated in the versions of the truth they told him. Hsi family operated under the rule that the less he knew, the safer he would be.

“Defenseless? Perhaps. But helpless? I think not.” Yerim touched Jongin’s arm as she spoke to their sisters, as if she were reassuring him. “Jongin’s always been resourceful. Problems he had, he solved them himself. If he’s made his way here from where he stayed, unbothered for years, with this ‘stranger’ tethered to his soul—If he’s come home to risk dealing with the likes of this family, then naturally, I would assume he’s here to solve a problem."

Gosh, Jongin loved Yerim. For the first time in this long, long, _ very long _ day, he felt validated and at ease.

“And unless I’m mistaken,” Yerim continued, “I don’t believe anyone here has directly asked Jognin _ why _ he has returned.” Jongin shook his head to confirm her hypothesis. “ _ That _ should’ve been your first question. Instead, you’ve displayed such uncouth behavior: using magic against Jongin’s wishes, harming his guests, running around like mad warlocks. It’s unbefitting of the Kim Family name!”

To this, Irene had no quick reply. She, like her other co-conspirators, hung their heads low.

“I think you all owe Jongin and Chanyeol an apology,” Yerim finished, head held high. She was a scary little thing when she didn’t minimize herself to the background.

Seulgi, of course, was the first to apologize, choking back a sob as she did so. She nearly bombarded Chanyeol to the ground with as much force as she used to take his hands.

Joy followed next, covering her face out of embarrassment afterwards. “Twice in one day,” she whined, when she thought no one could hear her.

Irene, of course, had to be overly dramatic with her apology—as in, she apologized without saying “sorry” at all. She retrieved the silver hatchet and nicked her own neck, against nearly everyone’s verbal protests. “Not quite equivalent, but I hope it’s enough,” she held out her hand and without a word of his own, merely a nod, Chanyeol took it, and they shook. Like this was some old westerner movie and Chanyeol was being accepted for having survived his standoff with the local sheriff.

Unsurprisingly, Chanyeol, accepted each apology without much fuss, much to Jongin’s chagrin. Was he seriously acting like him almost being beheaded was water under the bridge, or was he saving face? Jongin couldn’t tell.

“Now, with that’s settled, I must get going. Too many people around,” she half-chuckled, shifting on her foot awkwardly. Awkwardness crept back into her demeanour and butterfly wings emerged from her back, fluttering in that familiar, soothing teal light. As soon as her toes left the ground, she snapped. “Oh, right. Mom told me to tell you guys to get back and help with the preparation for dinner.”

Irene nodded and stalked off first. Seulgi watched her warily and hurried after. Joy, sighing, was much slower to follow.

“Yerim. I just wanted to say—” As soon as Jongin saw Chanyeol reaching for Yerim’s hand, he lept between them, and pulled his sister back to the ground for the hug.

“Yes, Yerim, we can’t thank you enough!”

“Yes, thank you,” added Chanyeol, dryly.

She smiled knowingly. “Just restoring balance.” She lifted into the air again, but paused, turning back to Jongin. “How long are you staying?”

Jongin eyed Chanyeol who drew up his brow, uninterested. “Uh. Hopefully not too long. If everything goes right, we’d like to be out of here before the sunsets.”

“You mean, if your problem gets solved?” she mused.

Jongin glanced at Chanyeol who was too busy staring at his sister to notice his awkward freeze, then looked away, slightly annoyed. Was this supposed to be a segue into him telling their shared issue? He wasn’t sure he had the words? Or the courage.

“Do you… Can you tell what’s…”

Yerim shook her head. “Nope. I don’t think anyone knows what’s going on between you two. Other than yourselves, of course.”

Jongin nodded. “I see. Well, um…”

“Well, no worries!” Yerim remarked. “I’m sure you’ll get everything sorted. But…” she hovered closer, ruffling his hair like a fluffy puppy. “At least stay for dinner? It’s Thanksgiving, and Thanksgiving dinners should be spent with family. The _ entire _family.”

Jongin’s face fell. 

How could he have forgotten that was _ this _ week? Suddenly, the pieces slowly came back to him. He was on Thanksgiving break! Stuck with Chanyeol. The massage. The imprint. The plan. And today was _ thursday! _Of course it was! Duh, no wonder all his sisters were back in town coincidently. The chances of that hadn’t even occurred to him. And all the groceries, too?

“Fuck.” 

Yerim dropped her sweet imploring smile, trading it out for more earnest pleading. “I know it’s probably the last thing you and Chanyeol want to do, especially considering all that’s happened, but… please stay. For me. I’m being forced to at least have dinner with everyone, and I might just lose it if I have to pretend to be mightier than thou the entire night.”

Jongin laughed unable to resist the shift in his sister’s demeanor. Even Chanyeol snorted. He was probably thinking, _ ‘the theatrics within this family _.’

“Okay. We’ll stay.” Jongin turned to Chanyeol. “But only if that’s okay with you.”

Chanyeol shrugged. “I’m the one who told you to pack, remember?”

“God forbid we have to stay that long.” Jongin said, suppressing a shiver. “It’s only for dinner, anyways.” Before he knew it, Yerim was gone, sparkles of blue light where she once stood.

Jongin was sure he inhaled some of them, and he sneezed.

Grimacing, Chanyeol said: “Let’s go back already before you catch a cold. You look like you’re freezing.”

Jongin flipped up the hood on Chanyeol’s jacket, and started strolling. “I’m not,” he said, grinning.

“Take off my jacket then.”

“No.”

“I want it back.”

“I said—no—Chanyeol, stop!” Jongin howled, manically as Chanyeol lunged at him. God bless his limber because the way he bent to avoid Chanyeol’s iron fist was uncanny. He had the advantage here. Lithe and flexible whereas Chanyeol was bulky and stiff. Chanyeol could get close, but he couldn’t touch Jongin if he ran fast enough.

Needless to say, by the time they made it back home, the cold wasn’t a problem anymore.

##  *******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall...................HELL, i tell you, i've been through literal HELL with this chapter, i'm so sick of it!! for more reasons than one lmfaoooo 
> 
> update...had more written here but it was eaten and i am no longer in the emotional state i was before when i wrote it so...basically, thank you all for reading! update soon! <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But Mom!” he whined, sharply lowering his voice to a whisper.
> 
> “What, Jongin?” she said, exasperatedly, in the same volume.
> 
> “There’s only one bed. And it’s tiny!”
> 
> She paused, as if that had just occurred to her. And then she laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) teehee

The day that Jongin left home could be confused with any other. That is to say, there wasn’t anything distinctly special about his last few moments in the childhood home he had grown up in. The house was notably quiet, save for the movement of 8-year-old Dongsookie dragging totes and boxes full of junk from his old room to Jongin’s. The girls were gone, so there was no one to baby him or warn him about the thrills (or pressures) of living on his own for the first time. Even the cat, Thirteen, treated it like another normal day. She hadn’t budged from the living room sunspot she was resting in, even after her favorite caretaker had announced he was leaving.

In fact, Jongin received no response at all. A melodic hum meandered about the house, originating from the kitchen. Jongin announced that he was leaving again, thinking that maybe the sound of him hoisting his luggage—two suitcases and a duffle bag—had muffled his voice. Or perhaps she hadn’t heard his voice over her airy soprano, or whatever concoction she was whipping up in the kitchen. Maybe she would pop into the hallway holding a tray of freshly baked goods.

Jongin had sniffed the air, but he hadn’t smelled anything sweet. Though, he had smelled Dongsookie’s favorite—homemade chili.

“Lock up.” Jongin broke the lone key off of his key chain and left it on the short table. He slammed the door behind him. He imagined her jolting, her sweet tune interrupted by her bird-like squawk. He imagined her storming to the door, ripping it open and scolding him as he dumped his belongings in the taxi’s trunk and closed it. He imagined her showing him at least some sign of emotion. Some sign she cared before he left.

But the door remained firmly closed, the curtains neatly drawn. He was sure the forecast had predicted clear skies, but somehow, Jongin always associated that day with gloom and doom.

He was glad to have left.

But now he was returning, and with a lot more baggage than he’d originally left home with. Jongin wasn’t ready to face the woman who made his living at home for 18 years a living hell, but apparently Kim Boah was ready to face him.

Jongin slowed his pace as soon as the house came into view because so had his mother. Like a scarecrow warding off the unwanted, she stood ominously still outside the back of the house. An artic -blue shawl that was wrapped loosely around her billowed in a breeze that he couldn’t feel.

“What?” Chanyeol questioned, huffing a breath when he’d caught up. He followed Jongin’s line of sight. “Oh. Is that her?”

“Only in the flesh,” Jongin replied, grimly.

“Well, don’t just stand there.” Chanyeol bumped him with his shoulder. With the weight of Chanyeol behind him, the second step came easier than the first. As did the third and the fourth until it was as if he were being handled by invisible hands, guiding him along, forcing him to advance.

As he neared, the hard lines and sharp angles of her face, shaped by his unpleasant memories, had softened. He was taken aback by her height. No longer did she loom above him like she always had in memory, white eyes scrutinizing every fiber of his being. Untethered from her shadow, he looked down on her now, standing tall of his own volition.

“Jongin, son. It' really is you, isn’t it?” Her hands reached for his, and her nails clawed at his wrists when she grabbed hold of them. “When Dongsookie and the girls said that you’d returned, why I—I just had to see it with my own two eyes! But—yes, I can see it so much more clearly now. It is true. My long-awaited son has finally returned!”

“Hi, Mom,” Jongin said, nodding along.

“You didn’t call or pick up when I called. I’d wondered what I’d done to deserve being ignored by my own flesh and blood.” Her voice, although soft and disarming, had a haunting, piercing quality to it, like needles pricking his ears. Somehow, he could sense the vibrations and how eerily reminiscent of Irene’s spellcasting it was. Though he knew she had always spoken that way, he was starting to look at his family’s seemingly casual mannerisms in a new light. Magic seemed ingrained in them at the finest level. “I was so worried, you know,” she said, frowning slightly, “thinking you hated me all this time.”

Jongin’s throat felt tight. He didn’t trust his face not to give his true emotions away, so he lowered his head, shaking it. “No. Of course not. I was just…young and emotional, is all.”

“Well. I’m glad then.” Her nails dug deeper into his skin. “And I know with all my heart what you say to be is true.” With a small smile of approval, she opened her arms wide. Jongin stared at her. “Come on now, don’t be a stranger.”

Jongin moved in slowly. His arms remained at his side throughout the whole embrace. “Loosen up,” she said playfully, rocking him in jest. “After all these years…” She sighed and pulled back a little, studying him in disbelief. She pinched his arms. “Finally, you’re not all skin and bones.”

She had changed, too. At least on the surface, she had. As timeless as his mother had always seemed, Jongin could see now where her face had thinned, where the crow’s feet creeped and curled. And by the looks of once-long gray hair done up in a wispy bun and held at bay by a worn scarf, color wouldn’t be coming back to her head anytime soon unless it was via dye job. She may have been a witch, but she was still subject to the natural laws that governed most living creatures.

Reminded of his, Jongin reassured himself that the hierarchy of the past existed no longer. He, his mother, and his siblings were all on equal footing now; and if they refused to see that, then he would make them. Time was partial to no one, and his time away had granted him a power that he hadn’t had access to before, a power he now wielded as autonomy. Jongin didn’t make the decision to return home today so he could squirm under his family’s innate affinity for greatness and cling helplessly to their strength, and he’d be _damned_ if he allowed himself to fall back into routine. If anything, he would prove to them that he was capable of his own power—even if he didn’t quite yet understand it entirely himself.

“Thanks, Mom,” Jongin said, worming himself free and thoroughly over the melodrama. He stepped back to Chanyeol’s side, who, he noted, was becoming quite talented at becoming his shadow.

“And who is this handsome man?” She was talking about Chanyeol, apparently, which is worth noting because Jongin hadn’t been able to match up the adjective. “Dongsookie had said you’d brought a guest, but I never imagined he’d be so…” If her appraising gaze was making Chanyeol uncomfortable, he certainly didn’t show it with his self-satisfied smirk.

“I’m Park Chanyeol, one of Jongin’s roommates.” When Chanyeol introduced himself this time, he made sure to clarify that he wasn’t Jongin’s only one. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

He extended his hand out for her to shake. Instead of taking it, she spread her arms wide with a wry smile. Chanyeol eyed Jongin, who just shrugged. Somehow, the hug between strangers was more befitting of a homecoming than the hug between parent and child, even if Chanyeol’s arms hovered awkwardly behind her, uncertain of his strength and her fragility.

“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine if you’re the one to thank for returning my son home.”

“You’re too kind, ma’am. Really, I just drove,” Chanyeol said, breaking away from the embrace and saddling next to Jongin for protection. Jongin was busy biting his tongue to notice. _One to thank_, the irony in that statement.

“Ma’am? Oh nonsense,” she said, swatting the dated formality out of the air. “We’re all family here. Please, call me Boah. I insist!” She looped her elbow around his. “One of Jongin’s roommates, you said?” Boah asked with a ghost of a smile. “I’m sure there’s more to you than simply that, young man.”

Chanyeol smiled, and Jongin guessed he took it as a compliment or something because he was pretty damn sure that was his mom brazenly alluding to their situation. If his sisters had picked up on their little joint project, then _of course_ she had. She was the head witch of a witch family, after all. Just, unlike her silver-hatchet wielding daughters, it was merely in her nature to be more covert about disclosing what she knew.

“Come now, come inside, boys! It’s getting chilly out here.” Despite having another arm free, she only pulled Chanyeol along. “Poor boy is starting to shiver! But don’t you worry, I’ll warm you up.”

Jongin suppressed a gag and reluctantly followed. Why did this meeting seem worse than the one with his sisters?

The chatter in the kitchen between Joy and Seulgi rose chaotically as soon as they entered. Seulgi turned to the dishes, clinking and clanking dishware while Joy ran a sawmill on the innocent vegetables, chopping them hard enough to shake the cutting board.

“You girls couldn’t be any more obvious,” Boah commented, slyly. “You’ll make our guest feel shy if he suspects you’ve been eavesdropping.”

Joy coughed and Seulgi squeaked, “We would never!”

Jongin shot them dirty looks. He still needed to come up with a way to make them pay for the stunt they pulled earlier.

Boah led them into the living room. The flat screen was powered off, Donghyuck nowhere in sight. Jongin wondered if he was being put to work somewhere, but then he wondered… did kids in Donghyuck's generation even have any chores?

“I’ll put on a cup of tea to warm you up,” Boah said as she all but shoved Chanyeol onto the loveseat. She fetched a throw blanket and draped it over him.

“Oh, thank you, but this isn’t really necessary,” he tried to protest, but she shook her finger, and that was the end of it.

Jongin stood idly, waiting to be doted on next. After all, he was the long-lost son of Krypton. He cleared his throat.

“Jongin, don’t just stand there,” Boah said. “Get over there and warm him up!”

“Huh? He has a whole blanket though.”

She sent him a stern look, and that was the end of that, too.

“Why do you get special treatment?” Jongin grumbled once she was out of ear’s reach. He kicked the couch after trudging over. “Scoot.” Chanyeol shifted an inch. If even. Jongin dropped his knee in between Chanyeol’s meaty thigh and the armrest and applied pressure. Against the iron giant, the attempt to wedge a space was to no avail. “This couch is way too small for the both of us, move already,” Jongin whined.

Chanyeol snorted and finally moved, pressing as far up against the opposite side as he could. He drew the blanket up against himself, revealing maybe three-eighths of cushion. He scoffed at Jongin’s incredulous reaction. “It’s enough!” Chanyeol assured, slapping the cushion. “You’re little.”

Jongin sighed and squeezed in next to him. He hadn’t noticed it before, but the living room layout was similar to theirs back home. The loveseat adjacent to the TV and the long couch that sat parallel to each other. Jongin had never sat on the loveseat before since Chanyeol hogged it all, so sitting on one now just made him… uncomfortable?

“This is uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, you’re sitting like you have a stick up your ass.”

Jongin tried leaning back, but he couldn’t get his back to relax, so he just planked against the back piece. He thought about asking Chanyeol to share the blanket, but he imagined the hassle, the annoyance of hearing Chanyeol’s voice, and decided against it. And since neither of them were speaking, Jongin thought it would stay that way until his mom returned. So, he was in deep thought about how he was going to bring up the imprint to his mom when Chanyeol mumbled something.

“Huh?”

“I said, I see where you get your weirdness from. Your family’s weird.”

Jongin turned his head slightly just so he could really get a good glare across. “If _I’m_ weird, I’d hate to meet _your_ family.”

“Yeah, you would.” Chanyeol gave a little smile, but he didn’t look happy. 

“I said something wrong, didn’t I?” Jongin blurted before he’d realized.

The blanket rose with the shrug of Chanyeol’s shoulders. “No, you’re right. They're definitely weirder.”

Jongin suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. The typical Chanyeol response of shutting down wasn’t feeling so typical right now. He sat up. “Dude, just tell me if—” he began to say just as Boah chirped, “Tea’s ready!”

Chanyeol eagerly untangled himself from the fleece to accept the steaming cup from her, forcing Jongin to make a mental note to pick up the conversation later. Something about Chanyeol’s family had poked his wall of no emotion, and Jongin wanted to know exactly what it was.

Come to think about it, he didn’t know much about Chanyeol’s family. In fact, he didn’t know much about Chanyeol at all—though he’d always known that, truthfully. Somehow, now, though, with Chanyeol discovering so much about his life, Jongin felt the absence in knowing nothing of Chanyeol’s as well. That wasn’t fair, now was it?

“Jongin, are you listening?” Clueless, Jongin turned to Boah, accompanying the end of the long couch closest to them. “I asked if you were staying? Chanyeol said you were.”

Jongin found Chanyeol looking at him strangely, no, _hesitantly_, and then Jongin frowned because why was he looking at him like that? Jongin hadn’t forgotten Florah’s promise to eat dinner together if that’s what he was worried about. “Oh, yeah. We’re staying.”

“Well, don’t frown over it. Donghyuck's old room may be smaller than what you were used to, but it’s clean, and that old bookcase got thrown away so there’s _much_ more space in there because of it. Heavens knows he never read a dang book in it, anyway, not with all these gadgets and gizmos everywhere since the day he was born.”

Jongin held up his hands, the crease between his brows deepening. “Wait. What?”

“Oh, Jongin, don’t tell me you wanted that bookcase. It was just collecting dust, even poor little Thirteen got tired of climbing it. It was just better to throw it away—”

“Mom, stop. What… are you talking about?”

“The bookcase?” his mom repeated.

Jongin shook his head. _No, not that._

“The room?” she tried.

He nodded_. Warmer…_ “Now, why?” Jongin asked.

Boah set her cup of tea down and leaned forward, reaching out to touch his forehead. “Is everything alright, dear? You’re not feeling light-headed or anything, are you?”

“No, I’m not feeling light-headed, Mom. I’m just confused as to why—”

"I told her we were staying for the night,” Chanyeol interjected, slapping him. No, not with his hands, but with his betrayal.

Jongin whipped his head towards him, having forgotten how close they were. After a brief lapse, he sputtered out, “You _what?_”, the noise in the kitchen shrunk suspiciously low at his timing, but he had other things to focus on. “No. We’re not,” Jongin told him directly, before facing his mother. “No, Mom. Sorry, but we can’t.”

“What do you mean _you can’t_? Sure, you can! There’s always room for family in our home. Well, I wouldn’t say _too_ much room.” Boah laughed. “Had I known you were coming, I would’ve told Donghyuck to pack up his things for the weekend and move out of your old room—since it’s bigger, but you know—”

“No, Mom. I mean, we have business to take care of. We’re only staying for dinner because… well, that doesn’t matter, but afterwards he has to leave.”

Boah crossed her arms after wrapping her shawl tighter around herself. Pouting slightly, she said, “Chanyeol-dear, do you have anywhere important you have to be tonight or tomorrow?”

Chanyeol hesitated, under the pressure of Jongin’s artfully positioned elbow killing his organs. “No,” he said, calmly. “Free all weekend.”

“Then it’s settled!” Boah declared with so much finality that it made Jongin guffaw. She dusted her hands off and stood up with rejuvenated pep. “Maybe we could even have the weekend together, then. How nice would that all be—the family back together. Imagine that!”

“We’re not here for that,” Jongin said, so bluntly that he heard his mother’s fantasy come crashing down over everyone’s head. He stood up slowly. “I’m not here for that.” He felt the mood plummet and saw the confusion play out in his mother’s white eyes, though she held her smile well.

Guilt nested in his chest, but this he could live with. He didn’t want to give her the wrong idea. While it was nice to see everyone and be reminded of old times again, this was hardly the occasion to have a good laugh over roasted turkey, all important life-alternating circumstances considered. This was simply bad timing at best.

“Then,” she inhaled sharply, “what _are_ you here for, Jongin?”

“I…Well, we…” Jongin glanced at Chanyeol for help, but he was staring at him with that same, irritating blank expression that Jongin despised. Useless! Useless! Useless! Why was he always setting him up like this? Why was he making today so difficult? If he hadn’t agreed into going into the forest, then he wouldn’t have been threatened, and if he hadn’t promised Boah that they could stay the night, then Jongin wouldn’t be feeling like an asshole for simply trying to prioritize their mission. They came here to find a spell to help them, not to have a party! What wasn’t clicking in Chanyeol’s furry brain?

“Look, Mom. It’s… a long story. Hard to explain in an awkwardly tense moment like this.”

“I understand, Jongin,” Boah said, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. It wasn’t without her prickling nails, however. “Luckily, you have all weekend, son.” She turned on her heel and that… was the end of that.

Jongin clenched and unclenched his fists. “I hate you so much right now, dude.”

Chanyeol snuggled deeper into the loveseat. “I’m feeling warmer already.”

## ***

Of course, in typical Jongin whiny fashion, he would try again. He followed his mom upstairs where she began to pull freshly washed sheets and blankets from the closet to transfer to Donghyuck’s old room. She was right about the bookcase adding a lot more space that wasn’t there before.

The room was no bigger than 7’ wide and 11’ deep, and it opened up to a twin sized bed that occupied half the room in the far left corner and a dresser that fit snug directly next to it, taking up the remaining portion of the wall. Opposite of the door when it rested against the wall was a small closet. Other than sky blue walls and dusty wooden floor, the only other remarkable feature was the little octangular window that offered a view of the backyard.

“If you didn’t bring anything, we’ve got emergency jammies that are unisex, one size fits all!” Boah said, content with the turn of events. She rummaged through the hallway cabinet, assessing if the amount of supplies she had would suffice.

“Mom. Please, listen to me.”

“I can have the girls pick something up from the store, too. You know all the sales are going on!”

From within his room, Donghyuck shouted, “I wanna go Black Friday Shopping!”

“You want things, but don’t do what you’re told, imagine that!” Boah snapped back. She didn’t miss a beat. “I’m happy to cover all the costs, Jongin.”

“No! That’s not necessary, Ma’am,” Chanyeol said, climbing up the stairs two at a time like he had an innate calling to mess up more of Jongin’s life. “We packed.”

Boah stopped in her tracks, a pair of spare bath towels in arms, before turning to Jongin. She swatted him on the arm. “Now, see. What were you making all that fuss for? Don’t you think you’re too old to be yanking my chain?”

“No, Mom, I…” Jongin suppressed another sigh, punching Chanyeol as he followed her back into the small bedroom. Maybe if he just tried a change of tactics then… “We can’t fit in this old room. We’re both too big.”

As if on cue, Chanyeol stepped into the room. Or rather, ducked into the room. He’d be sporting a nasty bump if he wasn’t careful. With all three of them in the room, the lack of space became apparent. The order they _entered_ the room would be the order they _left_ the room. Jongin saw the look of doubt on his mother’s face and preyed on it. “See? Aren’t you feeling suffocated?”

“Well…” Boah started, setting the towels on the dresser slowly. “I supposed you’re free to ask Donghyuck to trade—”

“No!” Donghyuck’s voice called through the walls.

She shrugged. “Then, that settles it, boys.” She spun Jongin around and pushed him into Chanyeol, in turn, pushing him out until the hallway so that she could get out. “Now, why don’t you go bring up your luggage.” She tapped Chanyeol’s shoulder, winking and being all cutesy before retreating off into another one of the bedrooms with more gathered supplies.

Jongin kicked at Chanyeol’s shin, missed and hit the wall. His toe bent, and the regret was instant. Chanyeol snickered and bounded down the stairs before he was pushed. Jongin hobbled after his mother, stopping in the doorway of a room with a queen size bed and space to dance around in.

“Wait? Why can’t we use this room?”

“Jongin, please, this is for the girls. Now, that’s enough. I don’t want to hear another word.”

“But Mom!” he whined, sharply lowering his voice to a whisper.

“What, Jongin?” she said, exasperatedly, in the same volume.

“There’s only _one_ bed. And it’s _tiny_!”

She paused, as if that had just occurred to her. And then she laughed.

“Good one, son. I’m sure that’s the least of your worries.” She brushed past him with a hearty pat on his back. “Now, if you excuse me, I’ve gotta get this food a-go-ing if we want to eat on time!”

After she left, Jongin stomped his feet and groaned into his hands. This was _not_ going the way he planned.

Donghyuck cracked his door open and peeped through. “I actually think the small room suits you. “Perfectly sized for big babies.” He wisely locked himself in before Jongin could reach him.

“Yeah, who’s the big baby now, scared cat?” Jongin taunted. He kicked the door and forgot why he’d been hobbling in the first place. “OUCH!

## ***

Chanyeol was, of course, Jongin’s next target.

Jongin limped from the house towards the driveway, glaring Chanyeol down without breaking focus.

“Chanyeol!” he hissed. “Why did you say we could stay, dude?”

“Your family wanted you to,” Chanyeol said, pulling both his and Jongin’s suitcases from the car.

“Bullshit. My family also wanted to cut your head off! Should I have let them do that?”

“It was a misunderstanding, right?” Chanyeol smiled as Irene briskly sped past them, carrying a set of luggage from her car that was decked out in pink fur that was clearly too flamboyant to be her own. “Why are you even out here? Weren’t you complaining about the cold?”

“That was before you gave me your jacket,” Jongin smirked, crossing his arms in it. “And don’t change the subject.”

“Lent,” Chanyeol corrected. “And since you’re here, can you help with the bags?”

“I’m helping by supervising.”

“Oh, gee.” Chanyeol slung Jongin’s backpack over one shoulder and Jongin’s duffle over the other. He grabbed his suitcase and rolled it back up the path.

“Whatever,” Jongin punctuated, “And don’t try to change the subject.”

“And the subject was?”

Before Jongin could reply, a scream erupted from the kitchen.

“Eek!”

“Christ! Seulgi, girl, you nearly blew my eardrums—”

“There’s a bug! Someone, kill it!”

“For heaven’s sakes, Seulgi, it’s not even that big—”

“Ew, ew, ew, it’s moving!” Seulgi nearly bulldozed Chanyeol as she ran from the kitchen. He caught her, and in her terror, she spun behind him and shoved him forward with strength Jongin wasn’t even sure he could match. brother had. “Chanyeol, kill it for me, please!”

“Oh, thank heavens you’re here Chanyeol,” Boah said, relieved at the sight of him. “Would you be a dear, and get rid of that bug, please? Don’t kill it, or Florah would have a fit with me tonight.”

Chanyeol ripped off a piece of a paper towel and swallowed the spider in it. Outside, he let it crawl off into the bushes. Jongin hoped it would get lost in them and not find its way back any time soon, if not for its own safety then for the sake of his eardrums.

Boah sighed. “Thank you, dear. That silly girl. Magic doesn’t solve everything; I’ll tell you that.” Jongin was surprised how casually she had mentioned magic, but it definitely confirmed that she knew Chanyeol wasn’t new to the Pernat rodeo. She looked around the kitchen with a start. “Now where did Joy run off?” She buzzed out of the kitchen without a second thought, and Jongin and Chanyeol took that as their opportunity to return to their luggage.

“Supervising, remember?” Jongin said when Chanyeol raised his bag to him. “And as I was saying—we’re not done talking about, this, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol scoffed as he scooped up their things again. “And ‘this’ is what, exactly?”

“You _know_ what ‘this’ is,” Jongin whispered as they climbed the stairs. He didn’t want the whole house listening in on their back-and-forth. He waited until they were both inside the small room with the door closed to continue. “You know why we came here, and it wasn’t to have a kumbaya over turkey and gravy!”

Dropping their things on the bed, Chanyeol turned and laughed, exasperated. “This again. Because your family wants you to, like I already said?”

“Florah wanted me to stay for dinner, which I agreed to _with_ your permission, by the way,” Jongin explained. “But she didn’t ask me to stay _the_ _night_! That’s different.”

Chanyeol shrugged. “Well, maybe I didn’t want to drive after eating a fulfilling meal that’s just gonna make us sleepy—especially knowing the long and exhausting day we’ve had already.”

“Then why didn’t you just tell me that _beforehand_? Why do you keep blindsiding me?”

“I’m not blindsiding you. I didn’t agree to anything behind your back.”

“Yeah, well doing it in front of my face and not consulting me almost feels like it,” Jongin said.

“So, I have to consult with you first to speak?” Chanyeol asked.

“You have to consult with me _before_ agreeing to decisions that involve both of us and more importantly, _my_ family!”

“It’s only one night, Jongin! What’s the big deal?”

“I just told you what’s the big deal!”

“Well, say it again because I missed it.”

“You missed it because you’re-not-_listening_ to me!” Jongin shoved at Chanyeol’s chest, not entirely because he was angry but because Chanyeol kept moving closer, and he was a foot away from being pressed up against the dresser.

Chanyeol didn’t budge. “So, say-it-_again_ while I’m _listening_ harder.”

“You’re not listening harder, you’re being dumb!”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Yes!”

Chanyeol’s tongue darted over his lips. He lifted his hand to Jongin’s neck, who stiffened as it hovered there, barely just grazing his skin.

“What are you doing?” Jongin asked, hesitantly.

“You're not cold, right?”

_Ziiiiip._

His hulking fingers moved deftly, pulling down the zipper of his jacket and then maneuvering to flip it off of Jongin.

Jongin was slow to react but folding his arms in prevented Chanyeol from prying it off of him.

“No. You can’t have it!”

“Jongin. It’s my jacket.”

“So.” Jongin covered his chest protectively. “I’ll tell you when I don’t need it anymore.”

Chanyeol stared at him—_through_ him, as if he weren’t standing there at all. Suddenly, his face contorted in pain, and he stumbled back.

Jongin moved to steady him. Heat bloomed under his skin as their hands met, and he jerked his hand away instinctively. Startled by his own reaction and bewildered by the seemingly impossible sensation he had felt, Jongin reached out again.

“Don’t,” Chanyeol growled, eyes flashing and flittering red like a finicky LED. “Fuck.” He winced and doubled over, clutching his ears. “It’s so loud.”

Jongin frowned. Whatever sound Chanyeol was hearing was all in his head.

“Chanyeol, what’s—”

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

“Is everything alright in there, boys?” Boah called, uneasily.

“Yeah, would you tell them to shut up!” came Donghyuck's muffled shout through the walls.

“Why you hush, boy!” she snapped back. “And do as you’re told!”

Everything was not alright. Jongin studied Chanyeol’s flushed skin, his uneasy breathing, his hand clutching his chest. It struck him at that moment that Chanyeol had reacted the same way right before he had transformed last night.

Hold on. Was Chanyeol seriously about to go full-on werewolf? Right here in a household of silver hatchet-wielding witches? And in the middle of the day? Not that he was an expert, but Jongin had always been under the impression that werewolves only operated at night. And now that he was thinking about it… didn’t werewolves only transform on Full Moons? For Chanyeol to have changed yesterday on the 27th, a day after the New Moon, that meant that something wasn’t adding up. Albeit, Chanyeol hadn’t really gone all furry mode either, but it still didn’t make any sense. The timing was way off, which brought Jongin two conclusions:

  * Maybe he really was the catalyst for Chanyeol’s sudden change.
  * Maybe pop culture had appropriated werewolf culture so much, it misconstrued the truth.

Needless to say, another lesson in Were-Culture 101 was long overdue.

“Yoohoo! Boys?”

Jongin tore his gaze away to glare at the door. “We’re fine, Mom,” Jongin said, through gritted teeth.

“Alrighty, dear! Just checking in! Come downstairs when you get all settled. I’m putting you boys to work!”

When Jongin was certain she had moved away, he kneeled by Chanyeol’s side. “Hey. You good?” His question was redundant, but it served as a means of extending the olive branch.

“I’m fine.”

He clearly wasn’t. He had sunken to the floor completely and sat with his back against the wall, his head tucked within his knees and his arms wrapped completely around. Safe to say, Chanyeol didn’t look like he was transforming anytime soon. Unlike the steely, impenetrable fortress of emotion Jongin usually saw him as, the Chanyeol huddled next to him appeared more like a fragile cocoon, braving against the elements alone in hopes of emerging better.

This was the second time Jongin had seen Chanyeol vulnerable. Or rather, the second time he had been _allowed_ to see Chanyeol vulnerable. Not angry, not defensive. Simply vulnerable. The first, of course, had been during the night of the massage. But a common thread was beginning to emerge with each instance. If Jongin wanted Chanyeol to open up, words wouldn’t be the way to do it.

Jongin rested his hand between Chanyeol’s shoulder blades. The muscles tensed beneath. He waited until they relaxed, and only then did Chanyeol’s body open up to him. His vision was muted thanks to the fabric of the shirt in between, but he could still see what he needed. The connections along his spine were still intact, but the lines were thinning—except for one. _No way_. This was a _new_ connection, Jongin was certain he hadn’t felt it before. It coiled whereas the others flowed and wrapped itself around a connection near Chanyeol’s neck.

Jongin made an effort to shift Chanyeol’s back away from the wall and towards himself, and after a moment of struggle, Chanyeol wordlessly turned for him. “Sit up straight,” Jongin murmured. Again, he obliged, and the massage commenced without fuss. Using the pads of his thumbs, Jongin made light, long strokes along the surface of the muscles that lined Chanyeol’s neck. He focused his pressure on the tension knots, kneading at them in a circular motion. The coiled thread gradually unraveled itself and much to his awe, shrank. At the same time, Chanyeol let out a sigh of relief. Jongin smiled and went through a few more basic exercises.

“Thank you,” Chanyeol said, so softly that Jongin almost missed it in his trance. His fingers slid down the sides of his neck, sweeping over onto his shoulders where they settled, teasing at his shoulder muscles.

“I can add another hour to your tab if you’d like to continue.”

Chanyeol huffed and shrugged out from under his touch. “Thanks, but no thanks.” He climbed to his feet and stretched wide, his rising shirt flashing his dark treasure trail and drawing Jongin’s eyes towards his prominent bulge. Jongin stood up straight, smirking.

“What?” Chanyeol raised a brow.

“Nothing.”

“Well…” Chanyeol nodded, very awkwardly. “I’m gonna go downstairs, then.”

“Um, not so fast,” Jongin said, forcing Chanyeol to sit on the bed. He knew Chanyeol wanted to forget and move past this as quickly as possible, but Jongin would be damned if he let this opportunity to connect with Chanyeol slip through his fingers.

“What is it now, Jongin?”

“Firstly, don’t think I forgot about our conversation—”

“—Not this again—”

“—And _secondly_, I want to know what—”

“—I’m not telling you,” Chanyeol said, standing back up.

“What? Aw, how come?” Jongin whined.

“You know when you pout like that, you kinda look…” Chanyeol squinted his eyes and leaned forward. “Like a baby.” He pinched Jongin’s cheeks and cooed.

“God, you’re so annoying!” Jongin swat Chanyeol’s hands. He touched his warm cheeks tenderly. “What the hell was that?”

“You looked like a baby,” Chanyeol repeated, as if that explanation would suffice.

“You can distract me all you want, but I won’t forget about this conversation.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to,” Chanyeol said, yawning. “Let’s talk later then.”

“Will we really?” Jongin mumbled, flicking his arm when Chanyeol passed him.

Chanyeol turned and grabbed his wrist. “You know you’ve been touching me unnecessarily all day, Jongin.”

“Yeah, so? I’ll do whatever I want,” Jongin said, defiantly.

“Oh, you will?” Chanyeol asked right before Jongin’s free hand slid under his armpit and proved his point. He yelped and bucked away from Jongin, smacking into the door. He stared at Jongin with wide eyes. Jongin titled his head and smiled.

“You were saying?”

Chanyeol’s eyes darkened, and Jongin realized far too late that he was cornered. But then again, he never would have expected that Chanyeol would sink to his childish level and retaliate.

There was nothing he could do to fend himself from the barbarian. The luggage was tossed to the floor, and Jongin took their place on the bed. Chanyeol straddled his hips and had both of his arms pinned above his head in the iron grip of just one of his massive hands. It wasn’t fair.

Jongin writhed beneath him, testing the strength of his restraints, but it was no use. Chanyeol’s free hand wiggled above him, like a tormentor showing his prisoner how he would be tortured, and he settled, tightening his core in anticipation.

“Last chance to beg for mercy,” Chanyeol warned.

With a clenched jaw, Jongin sneered, “Kick rocks—ack!”

Chanyeol returned the favor by jabbing him in his armpits first. No amount of squirming and spazzing could set him free of the relentless tickling.

“Stop!” Jongin half-laughed, half-yelled. “Stop tickling me!”

“Say it again, Jongin,” Chanyeol taunted, fingers wiggling up a storm all over Jongin’s torso. “You’ll do what now?”

Jongin whimpered in response. He wasn’t giving in, not just yet. He raked his brain for a way out, and his brain supplied a memory of a joke Sehun had played on him during one of their first massage sessions. Jongin committed himself to it before embarrassment of the aftermath could sink in.

“Keep going,” he said, breathily, eyes squeezed shut. The performer he was. He arched his back to seal the deal, “gonna cum.”

The tickling ceased, and air returned to his lungs. _Success_.

Jongin peeked an eye open and found Chanyeol staring at him with a blank expression. Jongin started to laugh, but Chanyeol’s grip tightening around his pinned arms caused him to falter.

“Uh…?”

“What? Was that supposed to make me stop? Let me tell you something, Jongin,” Chanyeol said, lowering himself to his ear. “Try as hard as you want, but nothing you say or do will ever faze me, Jongin. Got it?” He rolled off of him. “See you downstairs.”

The door shut long before Jongin would move again while he regulated his breathing and gathered his thoughts. That fucking liar, Jongin thought. “So, why were you hard then?”

## ***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay here is my long-awaited VERY LONG COVID HIATUS UPDATE ENDNOTE (plz feel free to skip to the [***] for the essential info, these are written mostly for my sanity lmfao) 
> 
> so honestly who the hell could have guessed the shitshow this year would turn out to be lmfaoo like...idk guys, the global pandemic thing, paired with JUNE just...it got me Good. my college closed, i was forced to go home, lost my routine and my ability to write. i seriously didn't write a single word for months, and i wanted to read but felt guilty about reading without writing but never wrote so i didn't read and it was just... a vicious cycle lmfao 
> 
> the last few weeks have been different though! i'vebeen reading some (League of Legend lol) short stories and re-reading some old fav books (less commitment for both). for a different fandom, i wrote my first 900 words (after having written ZERO since March) three weeks ago, and this last week, i was able to finally get back to editing and revising the latest chapter (it was written back in March, but COVID :/).
> 
> in other news, i'm getting ready to move to a new city too cuz i'm transferring to a Uni so my life the next few weeks will be one of rapid changes lol honestly that may result in me writing more, who knows. i'm enjoying my days and trying my best to stay safe and healthy!
> 
> [***]  
ANYWAYS, enough about me. I want to talk about YOU ALL! I CAN'T EXPRESS HOW MUCH I LOVE, SUPPORT, AND APPRECIATE ALL OF YOU!!!!!! seriously, i stopped writing but y'all never stopped reading and y'all never stopped commenting and my email was acting really weird so I ended up missing a lot of comments and kudos until only recently, but they all made my day, seriously. I love responding to your comments too, but I haven't these last months because I felt guilty about not writing :( BUT, since this chapter is OFFICIALLY OUT, I will be going back and responding to them to at least express my gratitude more directly.
> 
> ALSO, CAN WE CELEBRATE: WE HIT 50K WORDS! (We're only like 3-5 chapters from the 50% mark lmfao)....For hits, we're on the second page of chankai/rated M fics! For kudos, we're nearly on the 1st! That's so awesome and has also motivated me to keep going. Like I've said, A Spell to Break Up is my baby, my precious brain child. We will be seeing it through to completion! So, I'm very grateful to those who have decided to give this story a chance before it's even completed lol you're braver than the marines!
> 
> And since it's been...nearly a year....since i first started this story, i will be finally going back and doing major editing of the earlier chapters again. NOTHING DRASTIC, just fixing those spelling and grammar errors that scare me every time I glance through them. seriously, since it's just me on this bad boy, i've been preserving my editing energy but i can't ignore the mistakes anymore or i'll go bonkers :3
> 
> LASTLY, WHAT DID YOU THINK OF THE LATEST CHAPTER? I revised multiple parts of my initial March draft, but the last part of it got completely scrapped and replaced with what exists now (a few hours ago lol). I'm a little unsure since it wasn't in my vision when i planned this half of the story, but I'm happy with it at the same time. When the characters take a life of their own, sometimes you just gotta let them tell their own story lol. I'm very excited to hear from you all and I sincerely hope that you're all doing well, staying healthy, prospering, and such! Until next time!


End file.
